Read It Out Loud, You Son of a Bitch!

You think I wrote this poem
to be read in your head? Silently,
like some novel or nonfiction
history of dead
prose? Hell,

No! A poem must be read
- and that means Out Loud! -
for it to breathe, and take shape,
for the rhythm to ground its electric pulse
in the thrum of your throat, as your voice box
beats out its tempo
- don't choke!

Keep a glass of water by,
and if you need to, pause. But if you
screw up a line, don't cheat just because

there's no one else listening. You're cheating yourself!
Don't just back up one line, and "excuse-me, well,
I'll just take it from here" - that's no way to read!

Go straight back to the start, and go again,
half-speed! Don't rush it, don't force, just
e-NUN-ci-ate,
now
roll your exquisite tongue around rich, plummy vowels
and let consonants cut, chop the meaning to bits
that make mouth-watering sense, and it fits, oh it fits

or proceed as if,
'til it gets to the end
for the sound can make sense - if you read it,
friend!