The famous poets came for us they came on us or some of us
at least on some of us they did not come their poems were beautiful
or not but either way we learned to call them beautiful they came
like honeybees to hyacinths to some of us they came in some of us
the ones they called unreadable but fuckable or readable and fuckable
others were unfuckable the flip the fat the fierce the frayed the flawed
the frail the flunky the funny-looking radical unshaved the frumps
the flabs the poets came for us their genius sprayed on us they preyed
on us they said they’d pray for us like honeybees they dumped their load
of gold on us like god they shot their wad on us they called us sweeter
than their wives with softer skin they called their wives by telephone
their hands over our mouths to muffle us they shuffled us like decks
of playing cards and settled into hotel beds their socks and underwear
and undershirts cast upon the shore and then we’d stumble out the door ●
Diane Seuss is the author of Still Life with Two Dead Peacocks and a Girl, published by Graywolf Press earlier this year. Her previous collection, Four-Legged Girl, was named a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize in Poetry. She lives in Michigan.
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