Sharp Spurs

A poem written on the spur of a moment taken furtively from another busy day slipped into a secret pocket of a too over voluminous jacket slipped on to cover a favorite silk shirt. A mixing of double meanings designed to thwart casual critics and entice the cleverer into time wasteful mind games that entertain with ever twisting wit and rewarding salutations. Sunday leisured pleasure twixt sips of spiced black char. Cooling too swiftly and biting at tongue roots in stinging frustration as the day ever screams to be used in more suitable ways of activity Spurring momentously in anguished flailing wrath As the memory taste of the last dregs fades into sugar salt bitterness of sweet saliva