THE  PROBE

this test will elicit much

My sharp tool,

Deep thoughts will touch

Of private visions unseen

Artfully painted by words

Canvas of your minds eye, keen

Sometimes laid down by black felt

Wraps around you like a tight belt

Visions lace along, only to spill

You blush as I force my will

Fluid oozing around the ball

Something clicks in my hand

Saying little can say it all

As the story comes to the meat

Phrases quiver short, but sweet

Nothings as your emotions rise and fall

You try not to think at all

Yet desires I call

 From your mind, under my command

Reflective puddles form from this inky desire

Issuing feelings of inner fire

Gently I hold this long thing with a plan

Held delicately captive, your attention

On things we won’t mention

My instrument of ultimate control

Lies burning deep in your soul

Finely I tune the knobs to find

While you read these words

I’ve read your mind

A probing from the Parks