WORD SMOOTHIE
Those words are heavy as slow molasses
oozing from an old bottle like motor oil.
Thick as cream, with a nutty smell
like coffee when it bubbles over, percolates;
it permeates the room.
Candy sweet, soft as light, streaming,
dark and steaming, resting on an old stove.
Cooking up stories, they never had love
for Jack lived far away, in Idaho.
He’d never admit it bothers him, though.
His words were brittle and clear
The day when words mattered most --
Just like when we were children.
Even caged, he was always free -
But I knew he still loved me, and I hated myself.
He plays for keeps, my Jackie.
he'll stay tried and true ‘til the end.
serving up sacrifice for his little boy
with hearts as old and stiff as
the carved ones in our tree.
Better always, to do things the hard way,
says Ellie Mae to herself, lifting a car overhead
to save the baby.
'What a lovely mess!' She sighs.
It’s for the best, the little birds sing sweetly.
Ahh, but those darn words will always be
thick and sticky ones.
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