Poetry was electrocution
that you survived
Poetry was survival
the trip that sent you mad
…only by losing your soul
Poetry was not the record
of abortion
but you killed your unborn
Nobody knew it was
what you did to that girl
Because you
blamed your boy
friend, poetry
Was no no,
He said,
‘Accept me as
I am.’
The last
spark of poetry
guttered
in you.
Poetry was
hate
It was him
skinning her
curing the
skin and
smoking in the
peach light
of love
Poetry was outside
understanding
She said,
‘Hit me for
no reason.’
It was poetry to
be
It was poetry to be
her
Poetry was
spitting teeth
It was
fumbling with
the lid
of the first-aid
kit
It was the sting
It was aching now
Poetry was the was
It was like,
‘Where are your drugs?’
Poetry was
fucking
It was giving
the body a root
Poetry was going down
on a thousand…
Poetry was
dreaming
Poetry was
telling it to the birds
It was giving it the bird
It was eating out
your purse
It was a mauve nurse
It was much worse
Poetry was drowning
Poetry was suffocating
Poetry was dead.
