The Poem You Asked For

My poem would eat nothing.
I tried giving it water
but it said no,

worrying me.
Day after day,
I held it up to the llight,

turning it over,
but it only pressed its lips
more tightly together.

It grew sullen, like a toad
through with being teased.
I offered it money,

my clothes, my car with a full tank.
But the poem stared at the floor.
Finally I cupped it in

my hands, and carried it gently
out into the soft air, into the
evening traffic, wondering how

to end things between us.
For now it had begun breathing,
putting on more and

more hard rings of flesh.
And the poem demanded the food,
it drank up all the water,

beat me and took my money,
tore the faded clothes
off my back,

said Shit,
and walked slowly away,
slicking its hair down.

Said it was going
over to your place.

by Larry Levis

Comments (11)

I liked this poem and feel happy that I reached it
How charmingly delusional. This is an interesting example of personification. I enjoyed reading this poem, but who can understand what the author wanted the reader to think when reading this?
so give a sick poem air and it'll treat you unfair
I think humor is the hardest write a writer can write right. Mr. Levis did it up in a wrapper of laughter and bows of giggles
Problems are part of life. Nice work.
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