Poetry whore
Terrie Relf

I’m a whore
for poetry
no man will ever touch me there
in that place
that sacred space where
poetry is born
or maybe that makes me a Madonna
giving birth to poetry
without knowing the touch of a man

but wait a minute
I’ve eaten poetry out of their hands
licked it off their cocks
tasted it on their tongues
as they circle and circle inside me

I go to my knees for poetry
give thanks for the chafing, the splinters, the pain
that burns away what sense of self that remains

I’m walkin’ the streets
for poetry
long after nice girls are in bed
the key’s in the door
why don’t you turn it and
come in