ya mama got jell-o feet w/ fruit in the toes.

the danger in loving a poet (why i cant write a poem for u)

the danger in loving a poet
is that words are never promised
they must be precise
carefully carved w/ sharp tongue
velvet-handled
diamond-studded
they must come storming into the world
in pretty little whispers
or they must not come at all
they must cut and bury themselves
inside the softest places
and sweetly gnaw permanent homes
for themselves
else they are smothered by frustrated mouths
devoured by merciful kisses

poets are prone
to eating their sickly young
and are never satisfied with 'i love you'
so if a poet loves you
how will you know?

sneak around corners and look for her
sitting at her computer screen
or hunched over the pages of a blank notebook
crying
& feigning allergy attacks b/c she doesnt want u to know
listen for the rage in angry strokes
of her rusty typewriter keys
listen to her fingertips in the interim
while u lay waiting for something to happen

when the words dont fit in her mouth anymore
when those three words pucker her face
til all her features huddle in one corner
when they hurt her feelings cause
they aren't whole enough
to mean what she really means

when piece just dont end right
no more
when she cant seem
to place the period...

its hard

u have to be smart loving poets
to know that when she stops writing for u
its just cause words arent
good enough for u
anymore

.

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