I savor words that slip and slide over the tongue
like dangling participles
that linger and sliver,
tumble and run
with spicy words seldom heard
all calliwonk and wiggly-waggle
free-form fun
accented with a bit of bite
folded precise
sharp as a knife.
I am weary of joyless Sharpie words
thrown together without clever restraint
predictably seasoned with bigotry
brutal bully gutter garble words
that require a palate cleanse
at every line break
I long for a thyme when words
were lovingly tossed in a tasteful dish,
garnished with a fountain pen
loaded with a bouquet of purple delights
drizzled over a bed of fine vellum sheets
eager for the sensual touch of intelligent ink.
©Copyright 2024 Jeeni Criscenzo
