4 poems 1975-6

GOLD MINING 8/9Dec 75---1Apr76 What in that pious bankvault you call a heart could back the silken promises you rooked me with? What of your bullion deeds when brought to scratch proved other than fool's gold, ever? What diamond bond when put to the match, anything but paste? What Oasis Oil I took as love's anointment wasn't stock that you had watered, a well you'd sunk to sink me in fraud? And still it's you that prosecutes and me that's broke. You cry breach of promise, haul me into court,