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.