Words. Words. Words. Poem by Francie Lynch

I am deluged with words
And their figurative curves.
I see how a king
Can pass through the guts
Of a beggar.
I don't need to be
A melancholy Prince
To understand
The string theory
When a worm
Gets stretched
From ground to beak.
Or the night sky
Become a crossword.
Lakes are pools of tears.
Clouds bandaid bleeding dimensions.
The earth is a five ball
Caromming through
The felt universe.
Is anything what it once seemed.
I have voices
Conversing
In figures of speech.
Should I be
Tied to a stake,
Or,
Heard as a soothsayer.
There,
See what I'm talking about.