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 –

then villainous, they paper tabloids.

Rhubarb announces Valentine’s Day

and a saint thumbs a dictionary in distaste.

Only edible when sugared, stalks leave lovers

edentulous, their onus: they kiss, gum pink.