The first of many.

Gossip
by Rudolph C. Anongos Jr.

your mouth is,
the dancer on tiptoes,
shifting between the twilight
and the day as he
struggles with balance.

the dancer falls.
so does your tongue, but slips
instead,
dripping with spit,
a diluted solution
of sly verbal blows, curses galore
of your
insidious,
deity damned mind.

the dancer looks up
albeit shy now,
the mask of confidence broken.

your mouth
is, after all, not the dancer
for the dancer is human;
savage, unalloyed,

-holy

your mouth
is a ripe
event horizon,

it sucks.

[edited again, 8/9/08]