Showered the bloated, glabrous, noisome oxen;
descended, short of breath, to a cleaner pit
to heft pots of beans, defrost a halved slab
of gauche bread, fainted in a serviette, came
to in a perfumed tea tree enveloped in tune
to Donne claiming he’d also given the sun
a run for its money through a wrought iron gate
Ruth shot brute crude sooth
Affable fey leviathan
Always short of breath
Panting on hot diaphragm
Fit to bust the cursed nurse
Green balloon plummets
Petrified screeches
Thud, thud, thud, whoosh, bang
We ran toward it
The scene unfolded
Before we knew it
The horse had bolted
Twinkle, tinkle
Brittle Jar
Far too full
That’s what you are
Sat up haughty
On the shelf
Playing with
My mental health
…
Grimbeau 