Wait, are these like the ones to get
an hourglass figure
where the top is all the sand
and the bottom
where sand wants to run?
Lot of crunches and curls?
(all vaguely sounding
like the names of food now forbidden)
except in chapters
on voice and style,
meter and image,
—holy crap, how do they work out?
A muscle in my eye jumps like a sand flea.
Happens when I’m in love,
so I hold up the book
and hide under the cover.
Now he can’t see my burning face.
He can just see how to write a poem.