A short poem about gossip

Author:

Simon Smith

That what-not shall not

Be passing my lips I warrant you

Will know I was just shuffling my feet

And then you swayed along with dance

Steps - that is everything in a train

As if I were drunk in charge of your love

Which you could mistake for you

Are not her or you are not him or her

But I am the clothes I'm standing up in

When you had said no phone calls at work

Against which I daren't chalk up

This email herein for your attention

From Painted, Spoken No 4 (2002)

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A short poem about gossip

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