Poesy on a Platter
	-------------------

	Sister, would you loan me several words
	until my moon pulls wet again.
	Nothing more comes out, I'm dry as stone.
	I wallow in a ebbing tide
	of sound.

	Sister, silver chalices of burgundy and cherries flow
	in scarlet stains across your sheets.
	Do you have a phrase that you can give a friend?
	My phases have run out, and I am pale
	as ginger ale gone flat.
	My paragraphs have frayed thin
	and have tattered.

	Sister, send me poesy's head arranged 
	with lettuce on a platter.
	I languish with a hunger for a verse
	within a metaphor.  Your semaphors
	swing crisply as those linnets flitting
	in your copse.  If you feed me, 
	I may grow as strong as you.