Beware of the things people say
in beautiful ways. Place
no weight on being persuaded
to play along with kings

who get off paying compliments
when being paid respect
would exhibit real interest.
True friendship makes for wealth

none can count but on. Saccharine
aphorisms, to be sure,
yet in favouring sweetness these
words please even bared teeth.

Swords beneath grins bent, readied and
glistening in setting
suns whose reflections burden them.
Tongues burn wit returned when

smiling. Turning over in their
cavernous coffins of
smouldering mouths repetitions
in ritual practiced

as if echo was magic’s kin.
Incantatory hymns
under sarcophagus lids, in
this case, behind pursed lips,

tendering apocalypses
for moments under wraps
until all apologies which
went unsaid need to be

uttered by memories lying
dormant, long thought dead, fly
forward toward borrowed
tomorrows and get heard again.