Blots & Blots of Words

eventually

it broke

(the vase)

sure, I had to throw it against the wall

a few times,

(few = million)

but the smashing of it

surprised me

–liquid spilled everywhere!

cutting tender toes

as I struggled to mop it up

Lacking towel

(and mop)

the crumpled paper balls I employed

–created incidental Rorschach art

& poetry that looked quite like words–

but proved ineffective

(in the l-o-n-g run)

tourniquets couldn’t staunch

the bleed, either

–water colored paradoxically

rose from those toes–

and though I cursed the mess soundly,

that didn’t work as well as I thought it might.

that spill spread!

A mixed metaphor

the wildfire of it

soaked rugs,

seeped through floorboards,

and dripped into

every story in my house,

saturating everything in red

–which made me angry

(and hungry)

and more attractive to the opposite sex–

(as red will)

and it wasn’t until

the liquification of home

and hearth

was near complete,

that I noticed

there had been no

Gerbers in that

infernal vessel

–after all.