A poem's licking its way over you,
licking your delicate bits,
the ones you show only certain people
at special times, it's
grabbing hold of you
with furry claws, thrusting
desperate to be loved
by you, right now, no-one else will do.
If you dance away, fend it off,
it'll come after you more.
Oh yes, you must placate it,
you must give it the attention it yearns for
and only then will it be quiet
and sit softly beside you.