I’ve been a

little shittle,

entitled i to

• tittle •

benighted bow

a sickle,

applied to

whining

fiddle–

–as big as any

cello,

the strings I’ve drawn

all bellow,

the things gone on

unmellow,

a violins song

so ghetto–

–blasting and

lambasting

abrupt and so

abrasive,

a diatribe

displacing,

discordant and

de·bas·ing–

–but bigger yet

is harpie,

I will not strum—

so snarky,

and thus my thrummed

malarkey,

will fade to hum

and sharply.

©Karen Robiscoe