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Poetry is Pornography
Well, is this poem doing it for you?
Should I dress it up in black lace and garters
and shakily strut my stuff in haughty heels
for your emotional erection?
Just what I thought,
a pathetic poetry pervert,
another silent stalker
eavesdropping in the thick midnight,
snooping through shameful shadows
(hold on while I reapply the crimson lipstain)
Oh, you like it like that?
I’ll do whatever you need to get you to
feed and suck
on this saccharine heroin
Here, let’s get it over with
Slide the drapes closed will you?
Under darkness, over muffled traffic
come crawling wet mouth sounds . . .
I just caught you gawking in shock
at the silhouette moaning my depravity
What, are you done?
Then roll back over
and let me shake in your vacant silence.