Write

Write more!
Write more!
Write more!
Write!
Does it still count as poetry,
if it's written out of spite?

Craft

Words cut, as the tongue is a blade.

Teeth stitch and lips seal.

Marvel at the things I made.

A kiss to kill, a word to heal.

I have woven worlds out of "hello",

by the mere mention of my tongue.

When I said it, it was so,

and the world was sprung.

-o0o-

Stitch

I stitched words to my skin

the likes of which you'd never utter

I sewed them on like crosswords

so each meets each

so you can read me

any which way you like

at your own risk

because when morning comes

you'll have read my scars

onto your own skin

into your own mind

and we will share them

like a secret word

shared between intimate partners

woven into the sheets

and you couldn't say

whether you knew this yesterday

or whether it's all new to you

-o0o-

Poet

speak poet

your words are the prophesy

selling bad news to bad people

make them think it's honey

you witches and demiurges

who carve creation out of your own blood

rise with the whispers

that no one dares speak before the king

until your chorus shatters their windows

uproots their foundations

shakes the world

I promise you

you have power

sing up at the mighty

and hear them cry for mercy

-o0o-