I am condemned to impotently parrot
Lines rhyming love with blood, or worse, with carrot,
While life, of all vocabulary vast,
Rhymes with rebuke and funeral repast.
Yet foster I cannot a predilection
For rhyming love with heavenly direction,
A dress accessory, a push, a soap-slash-bird,
Or worst, a preposition long deferred.
And thus I mold for no apparent reason,
Indifferent to change of tongue and season
Around me, away from reading eyes,
A distant language that, beyond surmise,
Rhymes river with ennui and sea with grief,
And death with exhortation to belief.