by John L. Campbell


Chocolate coated vowels in four letter verbs
traipse across my bedroom ceiling, Gaelic
conjugations, St. Michael with muddy feet.
With my eyes closed it’s so quiet I hear
my soft slippers whispering to sandals
under my bed, KEENS itching for a walk.
They swap the smell of their souls, tongues
flap behind loose laced lips, tread rugs,
carpet, and ceramic tile where their steps
leave tracks on abrasive roads, trace
rubber and leather, one by man, one by God.
Y does a melt-down miffed at not being
voted the sixth vowel, tracking in sticky
dark chocolate,  words reading, “Get up,
grab a pencil n’ pad, jot this down.”
-First published in Verse Wisconsin  Issue # 104 October 2010