This poem shrinks from its title.
The clamor elicited by vulgarity
Is not that different as when sad beauty
Looks sadly away in the sight of your rival.
A poem, written by the lonely and free
Is not to be trusted, even when it’s me.
I have to check myself. I called my poem
A name so vulgar and disgusting, I took
The wise step of changing it. The book
Should never be ashamed of its author.
Things people say about my book
Should be nice. Look no further
Than this. Here she is. Take a look.
They say one shouldn’t write poems
On poems. Blame her, that now a title
Of a poem is the topic of a poem.
Look, Tom. Isn’t she beautiful?