Beckon

Beckon.
Wreckage reckon.
Couched confession.
Camouflaged lesson.

Suit yourself
Upon the sill or shelf.
Weary, worldly, workshop elf
Jingle jangling for little pelf.

Windy, windy echo
Never, ever let go.
Whistling lonely
Tunes, if you had only.

Only what you had.
Memories wilting, sad.
Mirror facets catch the light.
Words you left still don’t sit right.

Oblong thoughts,
Stretched from pulling.
Sharp bon mots,
Rusted, dulling.

My heart, tattooed
On veiny sleeves,
Reserved for witty,
Tricky thieves.

So long it’s been,
Since was the day.
Once black and white
Now charades of grey.


7/7/21