Tales and Canards

Some reproving tongues wag
sanctimonious
about tales and canards
only to return to their parlors
and bedrooms
and other shrouded places
and lap up the scuttlebutt
like so much sweet ambrosia.

Notes

I don’t write poetry much, but I do enjoy cadence, and if I ever did become a poet, that would be why. This poem came out of a horror novel I started last year. I abandoned the novel but kept the poem. I thought it captured some of the spookiness I was going for in the original story.