Poetry is making me tired of poetry

Madame

Mademoiselle,

do rummage through

what you see in this lagoon,

for it might interest you.

You might grab hold

of some long set of teeth,

their round jutted

from the mud of gum.

O thrash along in the

lake now.  Tighten the drag

on the long line pinned

to your oval wrist

And frighten the on-

lookers who dash behind trees

and steal behind nestled brush.

You will wear the large teeth.

Worms will

Unite you with

that which you seek.

They glean your intention

and assist in your search

For the marshmallows that

your childhood enjoyed,

that you desperately want

and have no way of chewing.

Instead of sweet talk
to Princess, they will eat you
until you forget that you
searched for them first.