Mood
The quickest way to a man’s heart
is through his chest, breaking bone
and scattering veins and flesh,
causing a pain I have never felt
but can imagine in breath-catching detail,
especially when I am in the mood
I am in now.
Everything else – pretty words
danced across air and pages –
is just strained metaphor
boiled dry in cliched similes,
and I have no stomach
for such things, the mood
I am in.