words

we dance around the truth of it

euphemise behaviour expected

in the uncivilised parts of town

when it appears in the corridors of power

a corpulent child’s fingers

are sticky with the scent that clings

long after the cookie jar’s lid

lies broken on the floor of the senate

his bumptious cousin’s lies

stain his lips like stolen chocolate

on a summer’s day at prep school

where charm is all that spared him piggy’s fate

the words fall from their lips

some broken and spoken like strange

sounds assembled from alphabet blocks

others are learnéd and resemble aristotle and cicero’s

these words are poisoned mouthfuls of air

bespittled plosives and sibilant sickness

borne on the vowels and consonants

seeping into our consciousness as political debate