Spry smiths
bend the sentences
into lovely
crags and knots,
explaining clearly,
with aplomb,
all the brilliant things
they've thought.
Words accrue
into a stew
of multi-syllabled,
hot broth,
steaming
on the stovetop
in a
fingerprintless pot.
The chef insists,
"Perhaps for now,
it's simply
just too hot,"
before the
trailing silence
fills in the
dot-dot-dot...
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