ORDINARY BOYS

There are ordinary boys. And then there are boys who stick an arm down your throat and grasp your heart. Digging through your entrails while your teeth rub against the socket of their elbow. You drool and it pools around your lips and drips to their armpits, tickling down to their ribs. There are boys who you will write poetry for as an offering a gift an insecure gesture, to say “Please like me, for I have gilded you in gold, and therefore you should love me for the sheer fact that I love you.” Then there are boys who demand poetry. Who keep you awake at all hours of the night, purging your brain of their details. Hoping you can capture them on a page and then capture them in the world. You are choking with his hand in your neck and his fist around your heart. Your aorta pulses. And so does your aching pussy. You write to calm the craving. To corner them in ction And say Finally, I have conquered you.