Words, Sawing Themselves in Half..., Maurice Oliver

but mostly, they communicate using mating calls.

Some say they taste like sweet nectar juice while
others argue they smell like fish and resemble
an all-inclusive weekend in a bird’s nest.

In my opinion, words are allergic to wool and never
eat between meals. Few of them have ever met a
prophet or had their homes foreclosed. They only
drink to be sociable but are sensual and fleshy inside.
They like to travel back to the province where they
grew up using secondary country roads and enjoy an
occasional picnic. Words are “team players” whose
only weakness are sins that feel good.


Oh, and one more thing. They are afraid of heights.