Shelia E. Murphy

Contiguous Posses

Of course the ave caves to priests' wrists

misted with history whose twists upbraid 

venturing out of bounds. Hounding 

the might-be ameliorative snooty whimper 

of those left out. Spouting foretastes of 

the noon ruminative chowder of louts

bereft of attention thereby littering

tension across the streets and similarities

strutted upon chore lines to unfriend the mantra 

of daytime sifted through nightfall

walled off as a sprawling devastation

of degustation menus unmercifully

demanding an audience for solo 

sprints toward monarchic mores

tapped for contagion as 

blight on sight. Is there a crapshoot

worthy as probable insight into

such weather as spills upon

flatlined mediocrity glowing

with relief at the merest taunt by

oppo-misericord noting 

punishment deserved in discord