Sinning Skel Misclape

O sinning skel misclape thy lock
from frenzied felbred feefs
and longitudes of long tongued fuels
unpebble-dashed deceased.

Unpebble-dashed, unpebble-dashed,
Unpebble-dashed unrose,
up from the theme that random flaps
in news flash rancid hose.

A morning dress of morning field
redrenched upon the sun,
that reads the wobble of the
air, the weary cautious rung.

The red-black innards laid up bare
for all to see and spy
tradition for the form of those
like vicious cheerfulled nighs.

Copyright © 2007 Lisa Jarnot All rights reserved
from Columbia Poetry Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission