They Called Her a Madwoman
A Poem
whispers gathered ‘round and ‘round
about the woman over the hill,
her mouth like fire and her words like wine,
since she never could keep those lips of hers shut.
they say you never know when a good girl’s gone bad,
but maybe we should have known better about her.
she was fine like whiskey but cheap like moonshine,
and no one ever knew which way her wind would blow.
they called her a madwoman,
and they weren’t quite wrong.
all the talk trailed over and over
till their tongues were tired from the efforts,
and they never could quite catch her in her tricks
no matter how they tried and failed and tried again.
they say you never know when the gossip’s truth or lie,
but believe me when i say they were right about her.
she was dancing the line between heaven and hell,
and no angel or devil could save her soul despite the price.
they called her a madwoman,
and they weren’t far off.
