sister sinister
mister sinister
sinning through the day
no work and all play
living today, leaving behind
a trail of breadcrumbs too close to mine
the birds pick and choose and I am left a loser
thanks to sinister games and pleasure
the crumbs are gluten-free, but the bread devours me
I am baked, no candied apple tree, not if no one waters it
retracing my crumbs is impossible when birds are pick-and-choosers
better to use inedible yarn perhaps
then getting lost in a labyrinth of hopes that trap me
would be fine if I could find a fine line to walk
but I would only trip as the bull feasts and talks with it’s mouth full
if only I did my research, I could teach a preacher
to ****** a bull and bind him, burn his trail of crumbs behind him
Even then my crumbs would turn to ember
My next loaf won’t finish baking until September.