She wove the shroud daily, and she unwove
it nightly, unsatisfied with her work;
the room was in disarray, yet she strove
for perfection, and, unwinding, a smirk
curled her corpse-like lips,
as if the nightly unravelling irked
her non-existent suitors; but no ship
would bring her dearest home, for he had left
on a Stygian voyage: his last trip.
Officer, I have to report a theft.
I once had words that I could carve and plane,
but I was robbed last night, and all he left
are words that are rude, crass, vapid, and lame,
that cannot hold their own, that lack a soul,
or are old-as-dirt, like fain, slain, and dame.
I’ll take her as my example. I’ll scroll
up, select the words, and delete the whole.
