Confinibrication

These words are choice,
Yes almost clear,
but like a trout,
through fingers slip away
gladly gone to rocks to hide
and swim another day.

A living moth,
fluttering still,
I try to pin
with needle sharp
and on my board display
but leaving only dust behind
it gently would not stay.

I softly catch
these living birds
that coo contrariety
I confess I love their fickled way
and would not, for the love of all,
in cage, denote, betray.

Come dance with me
between these words
that I have just nailed down
and we will fall through endless gates
that lead to rooms, beyond the room
where waiting meanings splay
coldly on a marble slab
laid out in meat array.