PAD Day 24: Getting Wordy

Today's dual prompts from Poetic Asides and NaPoWriMo: (1) Write a poem titled "Complete ______", and (2) "Locate a dictionary, thesaurus, or encyclopedia, open it at random, and consider the two pages in front of you to be your inspirational playground for the day."
I used one page of a dictionary rather than two: page 427 of Webster's II New Collegiate Dictionary (2001), Why page 427? Because that's my birthday (later this week, by the way). I took the prompt rather literally, I guess, focusing more on the entries and the word meanings instead of going on a true creative tangent, but I did have fun with the alliteration, wordplay, and little revelations from reading the page, which went from "flavourful" to "flexible". (The poem contains 29 words or forms of words that appear on that page, not to mention a bunch of other "f-words".)

Complete Guide to Page 427 of the Dictionary

What a flavourful, flawless fleet of entries,

fleshed out for the flexible mind.

For instance, "fleur-de-lis" is a stylized iris,

though the word derives from the French for "lily". 
Fire consumed the Notre Dame spire, called a "flèche".

You "flay" the flesh off a person's back,

but you "flense" the skin off a whale,

and of course you "fleece" a sheep.

And I finally found the name for those

silly folded diamonds with messages

we fashioned as kids, that we called

fortune tellers. They're a form of "flexagon".

"F layer" is the top of the ionosphere.

"Fleishig" means made of meat in Yiddish.

And it's obvious that a Fleming speaks Flemish.

Fleas, mere flecks of insects, flit around here,

as in fleabag, fleabitten, flea collar, flea market.

And I learned everything I need to know about flax,

except why folks eat the seeds.

I knew a "fletcher" is an arrow-maker,

but I didn't know that a fledgling could be fledged

before it flew. And by the way, "flews"

are the flappy upper lips of a bloodhound.

Okay, enough. I feel a need to flee this page 
before you all fleer at me. (Look it up.)