I'll throw some words on a stove—
they'll expand and burst from their kernels,
puffing up all over the pan.
I'll force you chew the crunchy frivolity
and gnaw at the asinine cob.
There's a voice in my head—brittle
like unpopped kernels, waiting to explode
into butterfly/mushroom flakes.
Soft, tender, mushy words—you can munch on
and forget what you are eating.
Towards the end you'll stare at the popcorn bag,
wondering what was really inside.
You'll tear it in a frenzy of rage—
the confetti will slowly fall on my face.
Poetry by Yayāti
Read 401 times
Written on 2019-06-13 at 13:02
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