Language’s consonants and vowels portray
The corset and the flaccid belly’s spread.
A poet’s one who’s able to display
An ease when boning them that seems inbred.
Obese or slim, his words without delay
Unite, in fluid couplets sweetly wed.
His secret’s effortlessness, not to lay
A smoke screen. He takes language off to bed.
His flask of wine is language – A to Z.
And when half-drunk – albeit just in play –
He spawns a child, an epic or quartet,
Or something in-between – a sonnet, say.
His fight with blubber, though, and whalebone stay
The reader never knows is left unsaid.