Poets.
I never understood poets
Snobbish
-ly frillish
violence-bringers
with word-weapons
like daggers in teacups—
stirring the very tea I cringe to drink
Scalding, honey sweet
(can you taste it?)

Poets.
Hurt-havers with rhymes
ache-mirrors
exposing
my misty mind
my spongy heart
my soft pillowy body—
whispering “you can’t hide from me”
Feathery, under my skin
(can you feel it?)

Poets.
Reckoners with truthplay
Terrifying and-
Hush, listen!
If I take off my shame
let it pool at my feet
cast aside, no fear—
understanding can begin like a morning
New, fresh with dew
(can you touch it?)

Poets.
Me.
Steeping my tea, ready
the sun rises steady
shining brightly on
You.
(can you want it?)