Wordle #146 “Muses”

146

The others are indelicate

With simmering bucolic eyes.

That exacerbate potential.

They tiptoe along the rivers’

Slovenly edge

Missing step after step

But never the beat

Of their former synergy.

The others are cruel

Balancing teacups

Between thumb and forefinger.

Their open hearts unzipping

Alternate frames.

Lips greasy with adipose,

They’ve got a craving

For marrow, for senses

Gloriously deranged.

The others are instinct

Uncompromising poems

Thrust posthumously

Into the public’s tremulous gaze.

Scandalous, they eat endeavor

Like squares of softening chocolate.

Their rebellions, sawed in half

With the soles of discarded boots,

Stomp forward, all or nothing

Obliging no one, not even the keeper.

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