A Broader Canvas
The house guest, Rimbaud, full of polite tact
As usual, demanded that a pic
Of some poor long-dead person, who now lacked
The decency to avoid having sick-
Looking mold on her forehead, be removed.
If he had only known his lover’s mere,
Though not exactly devil-horned and hooved,
Kept three failed little fetuses in their
Death house, in three small jars, lined up in grief
Or love, or some equivalent of both,
He might have fled from there in the belief
That breeders are a frightening fungal growth.
..When Rimbaud felt his brain had failed his bold
….Attempt at verse, he changed to exiled mold.