Well-read

Read wide without guidance
Like a squirrel, bulged cheeks
Devouring and hoarding
And the cache still reeks

Lusting and eager
More terrible than earnest
He's fracking the seams
To stoke up the furnace

Overseeing the pour
Forgetting the forms
The idea is dead
While the body's still warm

Each phrase like a key
On a ring in his head
"Boy's all right, and
He seems well-read."