In A Mournful Drone/Minor Key..... Poem by delilah contrapunctal.... yes, that's how I intended to spell it.........

sliding between wails and knees of over loaded aims to please
won't falter now, they've grasped the tail of hunger...
laid on cushions beneath trees to illustrate their expertise
can't give it up, they'll march to be called lover...
fawning at the gravel bed to reshape what has been resaid
they'll whistle tunes, recant an early thunder....
words now stand in triple file to savor stings and to revile
the headless horse who claimed to be their brother....
an ebbing tide... soon there will be another
an ebbing tide... soon there will be another