Roman

I am no storyteller.

Clarity on request; 
with what kind of chest 
might such become manifest 

as between two people 
a'crawling goes a steeple 

and in favor of cheap rhymes 
I'll toss the sun limes
for lyrical citrus 
and magical cactus. 

But don't porcupine on 
me, so the braying foes 
present a hammer to a screw 
and ruin every design.