Just deserts and after-dinner mints

we got the comeuppance of a lifetime
in standard meter and wicked rhyme
and the tricks we turned
turned back in on themselves

how did it come to pass
that we’d burned out on sleeping
weeping creepers in our malady
and a soup bone in our melody

the lucid sound of bells
threw us off our axis
but we’d been practicing for this
since the day we gave up lurking

twerking in the alleys
sallying forth into the wilderness
our own hearts had constructed
to hide us from what leers

peers were less than forthcoming
with the evidence we’d been seeking
they tweaking on a silence
that we could only hope to lease

and in the creases of a nightmare
we fell into submission
superstition cradling us
in our heavy suits of teeth

-r. miller

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