Cursed Arrows

Cursed Arrows
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Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Love Note About Town

Riddle me this,
Riddle me that
Tell me why people who sit on their hats
Twiddle their thumbs
When posed with a choice
Between doing what's right, and just making noise?
Sounds that you make
When nobody listens
Expire like lonely, moist bread in your kitchen
Preserve what you have
Lest you dare take a risk
On the potency of a pair of fighting fish
Vivid gills and such strong, veiny tails
Occur preternaturally
As they swim beside whales
Who awake to the thunder of tanker waves
And will only rest once they've filled up their graves
With the voices of gulls
And the breath of the fish
Whose ripples nearby always prompt them to wish
Upon a derivative star at night
For the strength to be true
And to do
What is right.

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