homiletic

heavy weight
of a wet wool blanket
are words settling upon me
clammy and claustrophobic
the homiletic refrain
of my brain
repeating again
and again
the things I should be doing
the things I should have done
unceasingly stewing
over things not yet begun
or rehashing
all the past
a skipping record
of lyrebird calls
bellowing at me
from inside my skull