Casting Aspersions by David Wagoner
He told me I was casting aspersions on him,
and because he was sensitive and literary,
I knew he must be telling me I was sprinkling
unholy water on him, was sailing a phony
barb-hooked lure among his lily pads,
was gathering a lousy bunch
of actors to make a bad movie about him,
was pouring hot metal into molds
to anchor some satirical bobble-heads
that looked like him, was publishing
his rotten horoscope and crooked fortune
and knotting them, stitching them, looping them,
catching them up — but I wasn’t, and I said so
right to his face, and he began to cast
his own aspersions on the character
he thought I was playing in his private drama.
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This poem was selected by Russell J. (Adult Services Librarian)
