Invitation

How am I to drink this cup
when often times you fill it up
with terse and caring haunted rhymes
which answer me on turning dimes?

I ask a noodled dainty salt
and answered then by somersault
your additions bent like leaves
hang deftly like icicled eaves.

I pluck a cantilevered stroke
the clock strikes 3 and leaves its note;
is this the last of nightly lore
or wilt thou dress my bedroom door?

runningturtle87