decorum.
if no one tells me I erase the dark trail
and relax the night to suit.
indifference as passion misinterpreted skews
signals muted as mooshed silk
no wonder the gospel has conveyed praise
in the form of whittled tact
no one is listening to rehashed once vivid
stories turned to vaporous retraction
as in eloquence without a line of code
no matriarchal boniface will stretch
my symptoms to include a flower for lapel
and domesticity there is a job to do
someone must get it done beneath a veil
of specificity we've come to count on
as the backbone of (etc.)
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