Gossip

The words, so carefully aimed, sniperlike,
cut your heart like a soft bullet,
tumbling out of control, tearing

far more than your soul,
ripping into bystanders like shrapnel,
so even when you heal,

other around you
still bleed

About this poem

I am not sure where this came from, but it bubbled up from somewhere tonight, and so, here it is. The picture is of the roof of a nearby writer’s barn.

Tom