Heavy dark-lidded woman The third one is acceptance
Quite the Madonna
Lacking the felicity of self-restraint
And petulant in many ways
But embittered by solemn rejection
Opens her mouth
And words, caustic to the touch and dripping poisoned honey
Flows out in torrents
Slipping off her tongue with greasy easiness
Leaving malice in its wake
Once inhaled, sets off an allergy of spiteful tongues
Which wag faster than the day goes by
Its victims, dolorous and saturnine
Isolate themselves in cruel solitude
Unsociable and sequestered
The first symptoms of gossip poisoning
Not to the fingernails, the lips (which would be hidden too well by thick lipstick) or the skin
Or any observable exterior covers
But to the personage; that is,
As one grows weary and despondent
Tired of enveloping falsities
Which hang over each dreary day like a persistent stench
That nothing will change it
And that the Augean Stables are bursting full
Of rumours, stereotypical fabrications and innuendo
That stimulate unfounded murmurings and venomous stares
Which have absolutely no purpose
Other than satisfying gossip-mongers and decaying others from the inside out