A Poem with Rumors

Probably one of the worst poems I've written in some time.


He carries a gun
I hear he's a Satanist
I hear he's a virgin
I hear I hear I hear
and I realized that responding
would only fuel the flames
so
I went back to fucking my lover
back to thinking about Sufism
admired my knife on its small shelf
and hugged my love close
to bask in her being.
--
This poem is admittedly horrific.
Tough, as they say.