The notorious poem that does NOT allude to a vibrator (really)

Here we go. I was thinking about French existentialism human communication when I was writing it, and after I re-read it, I thought, “Oh boy”.  I emailed it to a friend hoping she would deny any connection of this poem to the sex industry but she wrote back “Definitely a vibrator”. I was all, “No it’s not”. She was, like, “Yes it is”. And I was, like: “Shut up”. Shut up, you hear me? I have eyes, I can read. But it really was not about that.

I am an undercover tsunami

Under the cover of creme-brulee

Tough luck

My softness is violent

Like a helpless elephant with a moon of hearts

A blazing magical wand

Is attached to my pillows on the inside

It’s buzzing

It’s talking to me every day

And at night even louder

But I only show the tsunami

Cushioned by waiting

fuck