You Ain’t Gusto Gone To Makeshift Silence

Swish tail Vichyssoise 
Leekly midnight eloquent 
Elopement dramatist purgation 
North of Roth holdings chaste
As miniature flags flagging down
Help helplessly scoping out the whelk
Would you be my carnivore 
Slapdash as bodice chemo luck 
Plucky as a silver-tongued middle aged
Biped unrollicking a fling to the distaste
Of the disaster chafing hope like hype
In the upper registers of the ear worm 
Or earwig of the bass clef belonging
To happenstance the little shavers
On the roster imposter off-sprung from
Banquet roses of the rodeo bound 
Hiding from mountain goats and whirling
Around the rotund immediacy of hound’s tooth
Picked from sleeves as overcast as some
Fishing expedition to the north park frankincense 
Marked to feed the ospreys in a cadence 
Of summer sun splice infringing on 
Simmer sleep shape modest as yogarians
Tasting the vindaloo in vintners’ clock face
Temblors afield with about face facing 
The remonstrance of midlife moon