Contributor Series 6: A Currency of Words
Poison Pen
By Jean McLeod
Words lie on my paper
like dead fish:
blackened bones
meaningless motes.
Smelling of iodine
and rot,
they straggle, strive
ring with slander
slither
through my fingers
onto a sullied page
roiling like
seas before a slattern
storm.
Unruly heathens,
they slash
and leave me bleeding.
Women cover their ears,
press tight
against buildings.
Men shutter
their eyes,
cover their genitals,
cross the street
so my words
will not splash
them.
Jean McLeod’s most recent poem to appear at vox poetica was Ode to Spring Sestina (May 2010).
I love your wonderful poem and am sure no one would want to get away from your words! I marvel at your words and your genius and always look forward to reading every word you write. Fantistic! Jeanette G.
Jeannette, thank you so much for your kind words! It seems we have a mutual admiration society!
Wow, this is powerful.
love the ode to your words.
Thank you sooooo much, Omar!