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—
lather my skin smooth and lustrous for poetry, i lust.
put myself together and get pretty for poetry.
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.