Flame Throwing

Each morning we’d sweep up words, and shove them under rugs, or coffee tables. Some words escaped to the garden, where they poisoned the peach tree. Paint on shell-shocked walls blistered, the cat became so high-strung. that it hid under a neighbor's roof and had quite forgot how to stalk birds. We confided to a priest, who denounced adultery and lust, while openly scratching his ball-sack. When our son came home from university, we lied brightly to his questioning face, hiding our eyes behind court documents. Eventually, exhausted, we slept peacefully in each other’s arms, joined forever, by three thousand miles of distance.