Rumor Control

by

Dina Dinsmoor

I had a lover cold as September
when it moves across a graveyard fence
He put quite an insulting lable
on my unfinished bottles
of diagnosis

I could tell you what he said
to his great satisfaction
for thats what graveyard demons like
the best

I am lost I am hopeless
I clung to him
like a 3am phone call
that goes unanswered everynight
say you'll call on Friday too he asks

Let me make you more than you are
I will dissolve all your weaknesses
into the bloody pool you belong in
you crazy bitch

you are more then a carrier
of a papsmear once a year
symptomless and sinless

You are mine forever he says
I am vindicated
Let them treat her as the diseased
and smattered wretch that all woman are

I saw him not then as i see him now

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Old Times
by: John William McGrath III
from: Mesa, AZ, US

To visit all of Dina Dinsmoor's poems, click HERE

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