Poem #3 | Heartworm




I liked the word (at first) because the shape
that my mouth made when I repeated it
suggested that I could have used it as an insult,
and that I’d appear refined
and well-read to those who heard it at a quick (note; strategic)
speed (because, unsure of definition, I’d have said it quickly with no desire to mislead)

And I know there’s much to be said about those
with graces and airs, so for occasions such as these I kept
a dictionary in the airing cupboard at the
top of the stairs;



Shining radiantly; resplendent.

and I thought the word to be
lovely, and almost
nebulous (which is, by chance,
another word that I like the sound
of – if only because it defines not a cloud of dust.)

That was on a Thursday,
which are a little different for me now –
because I don’t take a bus past your work
every morning anymore,
or feel comforted (almost wanted,
consoled, accounted for)
by the pungent (not unwelcome)
7am petrichor,

and words don’t always mean what
they appear to,
so I’ll call you a heartworm –
I know that you will
find something in that
definition to
adhere to.

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