"212 Degrees"
How the bitter herbs,
That salty crew,
Once sugar
To taste and see
Now change
In new-shed light
And dive to stomach's pit.
Two hundred and twelve degrees.
Embark and sail
A red river,
Fleeing to ports of
Fingers and toes.
But passage-easing harbor
To release the swollen tide
And purge this acrid navy is
-Blockaded-
By
That
Dammed
Wooden
Spoon
In
My
Throat.
