NINE by S. A. David

Category: burlesque

A thermometer
Closest to the light
Always in a hurry
Running round the bulb in
Eighty eight
Having no egg
Knowing no mercy
Melting at her presence

A love
After the thermal meter
Perhaps in a hurry
Jogging round the queen in
Two hundred and twenty five
Absence of the eggs
No mercy
Melting at her voice

A living one
Third of their mama
Taking things easy
Dancing in
A year
A cold egg
Merciful but torn

Dead among the living
With some life trace
Filled with dust
Dancing in six hundred and eighty seven
Two eggs

Mighty Roman god
Alienated from the hot snow
Worse than the millipede,
Creeping in
Four thousand and three hundred
And thirty

Ringed thrice.
Adorned.
Worse than the snail
Moving in ten thousand and
Eight hundred
Twenty two eggs
No trespass

Large body
Worse than the adorned
Moving in thirty thousand and
Seven hundred
Five eggs
Against the time

Very far
From the big star
Worse than the large body
Leaping in sixty thousand and
Two hundred
Just two eggs

Humble, decent
Last standing
Ashamed
Going in ninety thousand and
Seven hundred
Complications, not even an egg yolk