My name is Poet. What is yours? Hush. Let me guess. Now allow me to list my attributes. I can flip across a floor like liquid, mock behind your back, and steal your moans with a touch. I speak with the silver tongue of a trickster. If you ask nicely, I’ll delight you with a rhyme, a few lines of verse spun for your pleasure. If you ask even nicer, I might grace you with that rhyme in private—as you like. I’m a trinket, an accessory of the Crown. I’m a riddle, a brilliant whore, a hidden agenda.
