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Poetry
Because I Wanted To
Jim DeWitt
did you ever get the urge to taste rust?
like from some chunk of old scrap iron
you might stumble across in the street
then pick it up as if it's
oh boy, a candy bar treasure find
even if it's got a bite taken out of it
and ants crawling into that open end
because it's become their home now—
but with this fortunate discovery
of a bewitchingly beautiful
brown-flaking slab of metal having a
special fascination for you
just looking down at it wasn't enough
(and it was no conch you could use your ears
to listen to anything in)
so the spell was cast, your lips were
tempted to savor
as with a strange new flavor popsicle
"mmmm irresistibly delicious
rust spiced with dirt" you'd exclaim
answering that something clawing curious
inside your mind, while your tongue
would be lolling around on it
in complete agreement, lovingly
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