[ On Poetry ] No Reservations

     
Dining on simplified    
deep fried    
servings of poet speak    
I hunger for more    
than just an appetizer    
fly in the soup anecdotes    
or word salad    
   
Though this may be  
where your bread is buttered    
I leave your table    
wanting    
   
I have no reservations    
or patience to wait out longer lines    
for a roasted beast centerpiece    
snarling in my direction    
jaws ready to clamp down    
vice gripping    
fangs ripping    
even the steadiest hand    
should one dare to remove    
the apple from its tusks    
   
As you struggle to chew    
swallow    
digest it    
real poetry bites back    
   
the harder the better    
   
Real poetry bites    
leaving teeth marks    
   
Wanting    
I get up and leave    
this tip on your table    
   
rather than the praise
you were starving for