Just leave it all up to me. My blood will be your food.
I’mma bleed that other poem dry for you.
Imma strip it of punctuation make it hurt
Immacutawaythespacesanddsmbwlthvwls
And when the last drop of meaning
drips
down
this
dreadful
page,
I’mma bend down slowly and slice my wrist
Right over that other poem’s death-rattling mouth and then
That motherfucker’s gonna spring back to life
And it’s gonna do the Cabbage Patch halfway around the world
Gonna knock on your front door
Gonna jump right into your surprised mouth
And when you bite down and pop a lowercase “e”
Or a juicy little “o” you’re gonna taste my blood there
Tinged with venom from a copper-skinned viper
Hints of sticky sweet antifreeze
And you’re gonna chew this poem up with intent
And you’re gonna say that was some real artisanal shit
And you’re gonna whip out your phone and take a selfie
That shows this poem’s blood coloring your full, ripe lips.