Verbum Mei
Let my tongue, a velvet razor glide,
Slash my mouth.
Pour forth like blood
Angry words that slide and slit
The jugular of reason.
Nouns, once proper, now degraded,
Gush within my stricken throat:
Persons, places, objects—
All the torrent overflows.
Venomous verbs rise up,
All action drained.
Vile vomit,
They spew and splatter helplessly.
Filthy pronouns—
They are bitter bile
Spat in gelatinous gobs
Against a clot of gory adjectives.
And conjunctions lost
Or with nothing
Left to connect.
Adverbs pulse erratically:
The tide cannot possibly be stemmed.
Wherefore art thou, preposition,
When my sentence is ended?
Whom shall I turn to?
Oh, for the bliss of
A painless interjection!