The tongue is a dangerous weapon.

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The only truth, you are not what you seem.
Imagined motives of malignity.
Picking and nicking at a loose-sewn seam,
unravelling doubt and uncertainty.

Your emerald eyes dream a monstrous birth,
your innards gnawing with a spiteful lust.
You weigh each moment for its evil worth,
And squirm your way into others’ trust.

Who dost thou echo, but your own black heart?
Does it give you wonder, great content
as the fates of others are torn apart?
Your poison supped ‘til honest lives are spent?

Oh Iago, Iago, just what do we know?
‘Cept that jealousy is a deadly foe.

Linking this to d’Verse Poets and Ingrid’s invitation to be inspired by one of a selection of Shakespeare’s plays: (https://dversepoets.com/2022/04/26/poetics-homage-to-the-bard).

I have chosen Othello – one of my favourites. I particularly enjoyed the production with Tim McInnerny as Iago performed at The Globe in 2007.

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