April PAD Challenge 15: insult. (A bit of a cop-out; it was supposed to BE an insulting poem, not be ABOUT insults, but ...)
My first husband, Don,
was a master of invective.
Not once did he utter
obscenity or blasphemy,
no swear words at all,
but I stood open-mouthed
at the stream of creative insults
pouring non-stop
from his twisted lips.
"You poxy, mole-faced, yellow-bellied,
flea-bitten …" on and on it went.
You'd think he'd run out of steam,
his invention dwindle, but no.
I can't even remember half the words.
I doubt if he could either,
if anyone had asked later.
It was pure, spontaneous improv.
It was poetry!
© Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2008
16-17/4/08
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