Wordle #62

Week 62

A truculent savior, knuckles browsing

The stria of my cloistered heart.

I peel my ribs away, slackened bandages

In the custody of your cloying reversions

Jeans erased at the knees,

Machinations spewing from a pewter mug

Bedraggled and thrust upon

I raise the nozzle, rainbows cowering

Behind the blemish of chronology.




Oral Section of the test complete. Thursday is hours of testing. Forgive me if I am slow this week.