It has been a week of nouns weakening
in applicability, often adjunct and defunct;
this acronym owes more, to us, than onus.
Mill mountain, noun, is promised to purge
even itself, last sold in 1633, last whispered
in Winchester, the fluxing flax chalked off.
Info-bot is both proper and not, noun;
Nunlets puff out grey, brown, or white
plumage into, habits in central America.
My patience runs into Cool Britannia, puns
punt 90s rock and rags across waters.
I, abject, read: an adjective!
Villains once churlish and brusque
now need fame to be infamous â€“
then villainous, they paper tabloids.
Rhubarb announces Valentineâ€™s Day
and a saint thumbs a dictionary in distaste.
Only edible when sugared, stalks leave lovers
edentulous, their onus: they kiss, gum pink.