Intent#43

You were the verb that was gently weaned from my tongue's grasp;
And I've forgotten; how hollow, how somber, how fast
Laughter turns into nouns
in the dark; how questions grow legs.
O mirror mirror on the wall, who is your mistress down the hall?
I saw you fancying, I saw your thoughts;
I saw you flipping, then I saw your tail;
Passions of the head
And the head of passion, you were the verb,
That was hastily wiped when I asked,
Mirror mirror down the hall,
Why is your mistress
Spread on the wall?

©hRj 2007