What is this
but a tussle of
jumbled words
confined in a bag,
strung at the neck to
contain, control,
constrict…….?
Into this sack I plunge
my naked arm,
shirt rolled businesslike
high above the elbow,
my body covering, my
material world
held clear of these raw brutes
Where words are memories
and I contrive sweet
tunes to charm
their venom.
Dance for me, I bait,
never sure if my
prompting will arouse
warm comfort
or some bitter wrath
In the corner
the bag sleeps
I’ll creep away
Charmer
