Poetry Was Dead

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
in you.

Poetry was

It was him
skinning her
curing the
skin and
smoking in the
peach light
of love

Poetry was outside
She said,
Hit me for
no reason

It was poetry to
It was poetry to be

Poetry was
spitting teeth
It was
fumbling with
the lid
of the first-aid

It was the sting
It was aching now

Poetry was the was
It was like,
Where are your drugs?’

Poetry was
It was giving
the body a root

Poetry was going down
on a thousand…

Poetry was

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.