When an owlet stretches out of its O.
When the moon fits through a button’s eyelet.
You see the end; you know how it tastes.
That’s the same time it takes for the egrets to pick gnats from the air around the ox’s ass.
The same duration as the tail of the Q.
Whose tongue flicks over whose?
Man—that is one sharp ox.

Brian Clements | Mudlark No. 28
Contents | Queasty