Falsehood is a serpent’s probing tongue,
your vengeance is the hurtful dragon tooth
that lies in wait to sting the unaware.

I dare not remove these worn shoes and rest;
once again I rush with the rising gale, certain
of only this: the echo of my silent exit will precede

me far ahead of these fleeting feet. No respite
for this exile. Already I know, you will spur me on
as though I were the Wandering Jew, but twofold cursed.

I must bear you, the vengeful albatross
I don’t deserve, around my neck. Be content,
my nemesis; you win. This cautious chameleon

retreats among familiar acanthus leaves to blink--
pump--and ponder this: What makes men accept
your slanderous words and close their minds to truth?

But I know the answer:
“Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow,
thou shalt not escape calumny.” (Hamlet)