Lipogram (Poem)

Creative Writing 5 

souk-6

Sitting by a sandy city’s bistro

at a spot of lunch not long past,

words crumbling from damp mouths

drop strings of stubborn thoughts

as if months of things said had not said truth.

a lack of touch implying an unwant of carrying on

clogs his throat with a swallow of a burning mint drink.

words said burnt through as hot mint slid, burning down his throat.

 

Standing, an instant changing

with a flip of a long, midnight braid stomping away

from a usual lunchstand and pair of chairs.

a crowd sounds as if it was lulling and numb

nothing was auditory but a sound of solid boots

clunking away on a sandy city’s rock path.

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