Vow No Sooner

In another sunlight,/when Caesar wilts,/I hear shrieks as fast as squeals./All I vow to my Maker/ are pinions of duress/a worm’s easy bore:/ I alter fright by mastery./In running battle, /I fight past masters,/I connect within climates./I seldom meditate,/I go outdoors/ for a taste of melon./ a breeze from a pitchman./My hips preach their sense,/ loose braids aggravated,/they seem afraid./I can’t answer by highlight/your mule is what stops me./ I can’t make vows/ when you have silver/I have gold./ Swayed by praise at an odd height/my tunic riddled with future vows.

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