| The Devil's Song Crazed by grief and desire and sticking his hand in the fire - or was it ice? - he got frostbite: the devil is beating his wife tonight. Please I don't think I can go on; I was somewhere else until the dawn - still there was an expanse and there was light and I wasn't beating my wife last night. Be forewarned: people will talk, I said to the devil during our walk but out of mind, gossips are out of sight and I'll neglect beating my wife tonight. But now I am going through a mood swing, I feel restless, like having a go at a fling; this panic attack is giving me a fright so I'm back to beating my wife tonight. I'll walk home in the drizzle, lonely and tired but stop off at a cafe, I'm too wired and all I can do is what I'm good at - not what's right: my nature is beating my wife tonight. David Francis |
If you have any comments on this poem, David Francis would be
pleased to hear them.
