Speaking

A poem; they don't happen very often... I expect that's why they aren't very good when they do. Lack of practice. ^_^

Anyway, just a rough draft, as usual.

***

The words mount their offensive,
setting off from base camp somewhere inside my skull;
a perfect formation of sentence regiments and paragraph brigades.
They rappel into my mouth and set up trenches behind my teeth,
and a preposition, in position, asks,
"Will I see fighting today?"
"You may, Private, you may."
I breathe in deeply--
This is it, soldiers!
May God have mercy on our souls!
--and breathe out again.

Not today, lads. Not today.