A word falls under the weight of its weight

A word falls under the weight of its weight, Snagging the ether with its rim. A rhyme through the reefs of the between-lines press, Like sugar stirred into bland kefir. The stage gives a welcome; the guests, all elated, attend to a speech that is brief. And seconds later the man on the platform Will blow a cold stove into flame. They all watch him steering the flow, juggling it. But the fire hovers and frolics and carelessly burns The one who will lift up a palm. The obvious hidden from eyes by a curtain, but tears are the makers of holes… For words that in streams under weight of their weight Fly off to the infinite ether.