The Fat Of Your Fine Indignation

Oh to mend
impressions
that went awry –
to take this guilt in
hand and pry it free
of double entendre
suspended – to dredge
in the depths of sugared
and cinnamon subtlety peppered.

Those shallow words deserved
to be fried in the fat of
your fine indignation –
or is it I who is tilted,
still imagining?
© 23 May 2007, I.D. Carswell