Incantation to Raise a Poet

My dear, as even true monsters are taught to behave
by poetry's enriching powers,
the words you now place on every stave
drop like Jews huddled together in showers, 

like toddlers during a heat wave 
and businessmen from blazing towers.
They drop like the pants of the pathetic slave
who hates scouring for porn but scours, 
 
the drunk who downs many shots of aftershave
in preference to whisky sours 
and the exhilarating monster wave 
that drowns the tired poets it devours.

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