Faust Money ___________________________I sold my soul for silver. ___________________________In blood I signed my name. I soon enjoyed the benefits of wealth, success, and fame. ___________________________I sold my soul for silver. ___________________________The day came to collect, And I couldn’t pay with cash or with renown or with respect. ___________________________I sold my soul for silver, ___________________________But, after it was sold, I realized that I should have sold my soul for good old gold. Soaplessly in Love Miss Twye was soaping her breasts in her bath When she heard behind her a meaning laugh And to her amazement she discovered A wicked man in the bathroom cupboard. —Gavin Ewart My motives (at the time I swore, And I’ll swear once more), Were ninety-nine and forty-four One-hundredths’ percent pure. I’m just a soap enthusiast, As gentle as a Dove. It’s suds that make me wooziest, Not sick, misguided love. That froth like champagne, or like cava, Only fed my zeal. Her gaze was fiery as molten Lava, And hard as cold Castile. So sure she was of my inner badness, Her needle leapt the Dial. No Method was there to her madness, I never got fair trial. As pale as Ivory, I clutched my scarf. I’d no Defense to sing. Feeling I was going to Barf, I sprang out like the Irish Spring. I ran for my Lifebuoy, like a dope, A Comet down the stairs. But I only ever had eyes for the soap. I was looking at her Pears. My motives (at the time I swore, And I’ll swear once more), Were ninety-nine and forty-four One-hundredths’ percent pure. Daniel Galef's comic verse has been published in Light Quarterly, Measure, and New York Magazine, and he is a featured author in the Potcake Chapbooks series of mini-anthologies from Sampson Low.