Some, I forbid. Oak, metal. Why stay like a gilt tiger hat?
What farthest deeds to the marina
negate mere language? Men like effective
fair trade in sighs and love.

And a water star for vanishing
over our sternest furlough,
an oak rocket in Heimlich benediction.

For NaPoWriMo, Day 23. I haven’t been explaining the prompts here lately, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t direct you to this poem.