I want to know
what makes you
tick.
I want to know
what makes you
fickle; I want to know
what makes you stick.
Tell me
which ion propels you
which soothsayer spells you
which folksinger trills you
which hardwood distills you
which downward dog twists you
which protest resists you
which neural net fires you
which siren desires you
which villennelle sings you
which jailbreaker springs you
which Uncle Sam wants you
which calculus daunts you
which lullaby lulls you
which confidence gulls you
which apple you’ll bite from
which hither you’ll welcome
what
makes
me
take cover when you come
cut loose the sails and run
forget the right answers
consult necromancers
allow the forbidden
ignore the guilt ridden
unlearn all the learning
embrace this new burning
to know
what
makes you
tick
2 comments:
Love it!
It resonates with an excerpt from my poem "Song of My Sisters: A Diet Poem", which I will share with you, in return:
. . .
straddle them thighs them saddles of
the perfect babymaking machine
the perfect pediatrician-appointment maker
the perfect birthday-cake baker
the perfect oatmeal quaker
the perfect backyard-leaf raker
the perfect give give giver (not taker)
the perfect orgasm faker
the perfect sponger of rancor
the perfect lip-cracking canker
the perfect double-hulled tanker
the perfect perfect perfect
wide-eyed tree-tied big-thighed wife for life
eating in time
to life’s ravenous rhyme
. . .
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