by Brett Rutherford
After Theognis, 421-424
Your mouth
should have a door upon it.
Tongues, teeth and spit,
along with thought-aloud
things that ought not fly
into the ears of friend or foe.
Food in, words out, wrath
flung like nut-stones or bones
too tough to chew; worse yet,
the vomit of insult and invective.
A door, I say,
and a padlock, too.
Keep close the key
but leave ajar the slit
through which kind words
and benevolent sighs
may safely issue.
Go not about
with the door wide open,
except for the dentist
and the assured lover.
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