Lessons Tell Me The Truth Poem by Charlotte Ballard

Lessons tell me the truth
About facts, tales and certain
Things we just don't talk about.
What's the truth? Is it the
Gray spotted thing
Crouched by the lemon scented
End-table, dragging a dangling
Feast of prime and rhyme and
Giggles none too neat.
I think it has a cool beat,
If you listen, this close,
Right here, I mean.
 
Sleep would help
To find the beat, not
On what is fit to eat or dine
Or cast in brine. Yet, if I sleep,
Now, I won't wake until
Late next night, if at all
Wrapped up in ribbon and cake
With fake tresses dipped in
Chocolate, asphalt
And Kentucky fried chicken
Let me wake and count
The whispers cupped
In sweaty palms, promised
One summer, too long ago
To be real.