You had 15 ways last week to mix
messages and manipulate
and I haven’t counted mine,
but I probably did too.

Today I might know what you’re thinking
or what you’d expected to say.
I don’t need more intuition,
but give me time and tarot cards
and I might have my way.

Tomorrow words might chase me,
claw at me line after line,
snap their teeth, break the neck of a title,
gnash rhythms so loud I
can not place my own pulse.

Another week, a year, a decade from now,
I’ll remember. Recite a mercurial blessing:
LexPoMo. Listen. Look. Compose.