The Staggering Marionette

If my poems had lips they would hide in your pout like secret honey
A whispered cache of melody dripping away in a sea of awkward noise

Something Precious

Eventually the sum of infinity catches up to my panting Achilles
The wolf closes, encircles, halving Zeno’s paradox striking distance
Something precious like a final breath betwixt time’s pendent jaws
My single bleated prayer offered up as a lamb just before his pounce