HER SILLY SEPTEMBER [PARTS 1 - 7]
P1 [WEIRD INDOORS WEATHER]
he's always trying to nail
himself to the darker rafters
& rain incongruous words
on her page [a bloodletting]
she tries not to look up
even when writing poetry
& keeps a #boomshraagle
by her side [at all times]
P2 [GAME OVER]
she was crying over
the last piece of food
in the house charred
to a #frooooozle
because he was on
his phone playing
#jocksterfication
#quanjy games
I’m sorry he said
[all #sneeshy]
eat batteries she sniped
& stormed out
the #boomshraagle
under her arm
sniggering [at him]
P3 [FOUND IN TRANSLATION]
outside
it was raining
poetry as well
the #boomshraagle chirped
something in #Wurb [1] to her
she smiled
. . .
[1] #Wurb is a silly simple language. [Less than 31 words, some say.] The only problem is that every #boomshraagle speaks its own version of #Wurb and no one but the speaker can ever truly know what any word means.
[A bit like poetry.]
[Some people sometimes say.]
[Not her, of course.]
P4 [DINER DREAMS]
the #boomshraagle
protested its hunger
[in #Wurb]
her mind ambled
into #Zaffery’s
he served grilled
cheesy sonnets there
the #boomshraagle
asked for potatoes
[& vinegar]
. . .
P5 [MIND CARIES]
#aragune was served
as dessert-poetry
[too cloying for her]
the #boomshraagle belched
seven times before she could
understand that it was saying
AI-RAGUNE
#Zaffery’s poems
were full of it
[apparently]
P6 [WRONG WORD]
there was a word
for poets like #Zaffery
[not #shraminist]
a monosyllable
the #boomshraagle
burped three more times
& #aragune creepy leftovers
wafted up to the rafters
she saw him there then
[#sneeshy as always]
he had followed her
into #Zaffery’s
P7 [OLD SONG]
the #boomshraagle gave
a warning #skoooff
now you tell me
she smirked
then frowned at
the mourning poet
[not quite] nailed
to the rafters
[not yet] raining
farcical words
excited #aragune
started to sing
[TO BE CONTINUED. PROBABLY.]
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