Not quite as satisfying on a keyboard,
the word Mississippi flows out of a fountain pen
like deep brown water flowing below a riverboat
while lightning licks around in the waterlogged sky above.
Those four esses slip out of the pen point
like New Orleans strippers slipping out of spangles and silk;
the eyes are closed sleepy and soft like warm Southern vowels.
Two peas trip along: high heels on the sidewalk,
or a door unlatched or latched at evening or at dawn.
And the four dots done quick,
right to left–
ih ih ih ih–
little bursts of outbreath,