Old Wives Tales
by Carol Casey
Old wives’ prattle, rattle tales
from mouths drained of succulence.
So, what’s their use?
Words crack as they erupt,
ear-stopping, witch-like,
What’s at stake?
Listen to be nice, condescend.
To hear the sea as from a
shell of herself rings too true,
splinters shelter, leaves you naked,
stalking shadows, gelding sunlight
into something shallow
enough to bear.
Listen.
It may save you.
Carol Casey lives in Blyth, Ontario, Canada. Her work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and has appeared in The Leaf, The Prairie Journal, Synaeresisand others, including a number of anthologies, most recently, Much Madness, Divinest Sense, Tending the Fire and i am what becomes of broken branch.