Percolator.

The dare that fell from his mother’s 

truthful lips a minute in the light might 

shake and rise drunkard rose hips 

the signs that do not show you the 

crumbs left in her oven.

.

The box stacked in the index isles

broken Hand stocked market music

.

The places that often mislead you to

names pronounced rock and twine 

worn as thin as the easy listening 

gas masked child.

.

How often are you mistaken for the four 

vowels replacing the Ingredients 

that made this.

.

Ergo there for one percolator j’amie