These poems often speak of love and lust,
Words gushing from the pens of Romeos.
The desperate hearts of poets beat and bust
Out of their chests, and like their words, blood flows,
Fast from their aching heart’s aortic arch
The largest coronary artery
From there the blood begins its coursing march
It rushes on like nimble Mercury.
When blood’s arterial adventure ends,
The veinous system beckons it back home.
The vena cavas let the blood transcend
Back to the body’s heart-shaped hippodrome.
The poet’s inner workings do impart
That life is often similar to art.