a freak for poetry (ars poetica)

i learned how to tie the stem of a cherry with only my tongue for poetry. 

i get my fingernails and toes did for poetry

i study and practice new tricks—

i’ll accept the company at booty-call hours only if it’s poetry. 

i forget my man who’s not really my man for poetry. 

i undress butt-naked for poetry strips my soul-naked and bare. 

for poetry i’ll fall apart—

bend over backwards, forwards, and backwards 

break my back again and again for poetry. 

i stay on rhythm and ride for poetry

controls the highs and lows of my breath.

i curl my toes at the sound of poetry.

i drip for poetry.

i’ll get explicit for poetry. 

i cream for poetry.

i’m a street corner fiend for poetry.

the meat on my thighs shakes for poetry

and sometimes i can’t walk straight 

because of poetry i might show up a little late. 

i fuck and forget poetry but i always come back to poetry. 

i climax with poetry and i even got a tattoo of poetry. 

i wasn’t supposed to fall in love with poetry, but i did.