What is there about wolves which make them believe we do not notice how their wool coats hang funny?
Mantra has had her fill lately of wolves in sheep’s clothing. One predator moved her to words, the rhyming kind she sings so well.
Join her on a turn at the rumor mill with a little number called Record Keeper. You will see this short one in her newest book, due out at the beginning of the year.
Vestiges of rumors still fly by more than a pants’ seat.
The skeletal remains are recognizable by more than
Forensic pathology. What’s your degree?
How can you be qualified to judge the truth
Clothed in your sheepish finest?
Saliva strings dangle from fangs at the salacious slander.
What began as a fecal whiff is now dessert you serve
On your bone china with your best coffee.
Entertaining your masses with what only you
Can know as trustworthiest.
The flock of sheep whose attention you pander
To varying degrees, tolerate the tripe knowing of your
Lupine heritage because they can see
You reach for them only when you have exhausted
The ones who are the closest.
Your dreams of going in the record as the historian
Of all things pertinent and interesting
Will need to have a footnote or three
About how your true skill was exaggerating
Your role in the minutiae’s driest.
The contents of Mantra’s new (as yet unnamed) book are a varied lot. The shortest have been posted to M3, which is why her offerings here have been sparse. Hardly any are truly short enough for the web. I hope you join her for a new romp through the poetic.
Have you known this wolf? How do you slay it?
Hashtags: #poetry #truth
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