Thursday, June 11, 2015

Conor O'Reilly writes



The Curse

I once knew a woman.
She couldn’t stand the sound of words.
Words that tickled her femininity
in their onomatopoeia 
as they latched around your tongue
like a ribbiting toad or the running of a ruler
across a wide corrugated roof.

She would coarsely condemn
as any of the best of us would
with words everyone else would cringe with.
Words that described her anatomy.
Unthinkable things.
You know them.
Right. Unthinkable. Sinful. That’s right.
Yes.
You can shout it out if you like.

1 comment:

  1. A wee bit of bawdy Gaelic humor here. I especially like the cascading consonance of "like a ribbiting toad or the running of a ruler across a wide corrugated roof."

    ReplyDelete

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