collective nouns: ten front teeth are seven thebes every day of the week

homelands / husbands / playing house / strands & strings of horses behind strangers lounging un-belonging to Thebes of Sevens or women, depending on how you slice matters, as a perspective as a twisted bark of favors sneaky is a wooden gift donkey at a garden gate overbitten hinge with ten front teeth, grinning hidden from you looking into it, questioning its motivated patience rolling up in wait— weighted with sweat-salted men huffing inside an oaken belly chewing tight lips, they be-lying trojan claims of apple cake philanthropy, a ready hoof as a broken wood tooth busted off in breaching trollop secretly hiding a picked body of men beckoning their silent armies to bolster a side there lies in its midst a flatulence of language no fox lays a stake on the hole— protecting its skulk in prevention of domestication's leash as all before have done, better a murder of crows than shifting troops proving stud horses hiding should be stabilized as leashing foxes having lost the lead chasing a venery— manufactured hare meant for horse plot-plottering hooves against his own wood stoking a smoke-show inside a swollen belly raking at the gates to get out of the agreement of being, for being part of the picked body, scrutinized for pulling short to remain quiet at the dying chaos of the rattling sounds from a losing side