I want to write that poem…

that grabs you by the head

twists your reluctant gaze in its direction

as train wrecks and nymphs routinely do;

that collides with your heart

ice pick or first love

thuds through miles of veins;

that glimmers dewdrops on your skin

whispering of sunrise and erupting volcanos;

that touches you at the core

-not in the creepy Trumpian p-grabbing way-

in the way that lights your essence on fire,

a slow smoldering that torches a forest

in an eyeblink.

I want to write that poem…

that centipedes among your synapses

imprinting thousands of indelible footprints

secreting sticky neurotoxins

irreversibly remodeling your thoughts;

that impels you to scribble snippets

on gum wrappers and tissues

and tuck them in your bra, pocketless,

so as not to lose your precious thought-gems.

I want to write that poem…

that leaves you gasping, open-mouthed,

at the import and audacity…