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.