My poem would eat nothing. <br />I tried giving it water <br />but it said no, <br /> <br />worrying me. <br />Day after day, <br />I held it up to the llight, <br /> <br />turning it over, <br />but it only pressed its lips <br />more tightly together. <br /> <br />It grew sullen, like a toad <br />through with being teased. <br />I offered it money, <br /> <br />my clothes, my car with a full tank. <br />But the poem stared at the floor. <br />Finally I cupped it in <br /> <br />my hands, and carried it gently <br />out into the soft air, into the <br />evening traffic, wondering how <br /> <br />to end things between us. <br />For now it had begun breathing, <br />putting on more and <br /> <br />more hard rings of flesh. <br />And the poem demanded the food, <br />it drank up all the water, <br /> <br />beat me and took my money, <br />tore the faded clothes <br />off my back, <br /> <br />said Shit, <br />and walked slowly away, <br />slicking its hair down. <br /> <br />Said it was going <br />over to your place.<br /><br />Larry Levis<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-poem-you-asked-for/
