Those careful faces
she floated above
were two sincere, and two sarcastic
the rest rested rusted eyes on the table.
Ready to grip their ears, if offered
smaller circles drawn about them
when she lands her crooked purple talons
sinking down, deeper –
Use fewer words, but more of them,
Don’t try to fight the nature of the poem,
You shouldn’t say should or shouldn’t,
regurgitating straight into our mouths.
Relenting at first, we sat stiff in our chairs
and began to swallow what we liked.
Writing now without her
breath no longer down my neck
no scent of secret cigarettes.
Free to stand up and move around.
June 6
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