Thursday, July 16, 2015

weasel word

with honeyed tongue
the whisper
of not-so-sweet nothings
wafts across
like the scent
toast burnt
in a neighboring room
scraped and buttered
and laid out on breakfast plates
weasel words
hiding ultimatum &
couched agendas
and you wonder why
you never noticed
before
but hunger overtook
and so you ate
the charcoal bread
and honey masked
the ashen taste
what was proffered
gluttonously devoured
in spite of its failings
despite a full larder
in hopes of not offending
a rotten cook

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