She’s a building set to fall,
stalling, some sudden movement
who’s outlived her charms,
a blooming flash
of bravado hook
-ed on some half-built husk. Hook
her spice to Fall
leaves, keystone question her flash
and she’ll tell you water’s
sacred, full of mermaid charms
and sacred movement.
Watch the movement
of the sea, fishhook
dangling firework charms
and grace from fall
-ing far. Stabbing waters
cut deep, sunlight flash
dashed on rock, flash
-flood tears on the move, meant
to calm these tumbled waters.
Her heart’s a pirate’s hook,
some fake performance piece to fall
to his abandoned charms.
Shelled and shipped, she charms,
shuddering down in a flash.
With a whimper, her fall
-ing grace is surprise movement
even a double stabbing hook
cannot pierce in earthquake waters.
A jewel of quiet steel, she waters
waves with grace and grief, charms
temblors not to hook
her center. Flash
her a smile, some movement
of your own stone heart. She’ll fall.
Set to fall in quiet waters,
she knows her movement has its charms.
And in a flash, she’s off the hook.
Following Margo over to Oulipost for today’s crazy challenge: a Sestina weaved from phrases and words found only in the newspaper. Some of my verbs are from the homepage of the Las Vegas Sun, but mostly I am oh, so thankful for this well-verbed article.