Umbriate Press Poetry

Poorly tailored my lips

Sown to language

Uneasily let loose

Barbarisms, condemnations

Limping stories

Of love and regret

Into unwilling ears.

What good are these threads

Constantly milling around

In the thick air of our importance?

Art, poetry, the cultured undertones

Of the ineffable rendered noxious

Thanks to that wagging mouth tail

Our tongue.

A well-knitted set of lips

Is worth a thousand years

Of indulged incantations.