Thirsty work

In this desert

I count the grains of sand

that are the wasted words

I’ve frittered through rough trade

Dunes of nouns

Waves of verbs

Stretch to my horizons

Pronouns clump

together around my

feet

Wilting palms of

poems cast me in

the shadow of

their fronds. Lofty art

denied the succour of clear thought

Seeds dry and

drying, dessicate.

A noble phrase crumbles

in my hand to dust

for want of voice

My throat is dry.