"She speaks poinards and every word stabs"*
Much Ado About Nothing
                            Shakespeare*

Her voice, a silken cord,
wrapped around your neck

Her intent, harm,
a slow lingering death
by rememberance
of her disdain....

By the point of her tongue
You are lanced,  again
and again.

You would not think her
an asassin....
of the highest decree,
as she sits prim and proper,
taking tea.

But stray from the narrow
path she sets..
and slow scandulous death
will beset you.
Make no mistake...
She is out to get you.

Her tongue a poinard,
Her mind, a machination,
camouflaged with coy,
polite inclination.

Her body, allurement to
ambuscade.
And then the death of
a thousand cuts begins.

Be you male, female
or mixed gender
she does not discriminate
the sharp tongued assassin
lives to win...

To cut you down, slice by
slice, by slice..
That is Madame Gossip's
much loved vice.