While national poetry month is indeed winding down, it's not too late to celebrate the power of poetry in your sex life. The way I see it, you have three options. You can fuck a poet, become one or simply use the poetic works of others to get yourself laid before month's end. Consider this. Ninety-nine per cent of all poems are about sex or death, and we could all stand a little break from the latter. Bottom line: April, month of sonnets and unfettered free verse, is an awesome time to get yourself some ass. It's up to you to turn it from the cruellest month into the wettest.
Fucking a poet during Poetry Month is a very nice thing to do because, as everyone knows, poets are lonely, complicated souls who need more TLC than most people. At this time of year they may also be suffering from acute bitterness, especially if they weren't invited to perform their brilliant works at one of the 200 venues currently featuring readings.
Canada Council rejection letters have arrived by now, so finding a poet won't be too difficult: simply visit a bar. After a night of hot, grateful sex, poets will often leave sleazy haikus on the night-table, provided they leave. Make sure they do. That said, keep all such post-rut love notes. If your poet fuck becomes famous one day, you can sell his or her scribbled scrap on eBay for a large sum. (Be patient.)
And if it's your deep wish to be immortalized, elevated from one-night stand to god/goddess, do sleep with a poet. Like elephants, poets never forget. Plus, they'll almost always remember you as well endowed.
A person who has devoted his life to creating beauty and obsessing over rhythm is generally quite good in bed. And because of their notorious talent for staying up all night, they're less likely to fall asleep on you mid-romp. Yes, in this our country of bards it is pretty much your patriotic duty to fuck a poet. (Poets, feel free to carry this column around with you for the rest of the month, with my sincere hopes that it works like a charm.)
Option number two: become a poet. If masochism's your thing, go for it. If not, skip to option three.
When I suggest using the poems of others in order to facilitate a pickup or seduction, I am not talking about Wordsworth. Dreamily murmuring "I wandered lonely as a cloud" in a packed bar isn't going to get you any.
Poetry functions best as a courtly weapon, as in the case of the hand-copied poem in a card or letter. Just remember, whether copied, trilled-out or whispered, some poets are sexier than others.
If you're disinclined to quote aloud from literature because it's an undeniably pretentious habit, please note that this is Poetry Month, the one time of year you can get away with recitations. Or why not copy a few lines of a truly hot poem on a cocktail napkin and pass it to your object of desire?
Again, choose carefully. e.e. cummings will get you laid; Robert Frost might not. (I guess it depends where you hang out on a Friday night.) Anne Sexton is hotter than Sylvia Plath, but those suicide poets do have a certain hint of danger about them. Consider using these lines from Canadian poet Lorna Crozier's suite The Sex Lives Of Vegetables: "Carrots are fucking / the earth. A permanent / erection, they push deeper / into the damp and dark." Who wouldn't be enticed by that? Granted, it might work better in a garden centre than a bar, but you never know.
Whatever you do, make sure to make the most of what's left of Poetry Month by using poetry in your mating call. Time is of the essence! Make haste! Of course, you might also choose to enter into the month of May (National Masturbation Month) alone, holding a copy of Les Fleurs Du Mal in your free hand. Marnie Woodrow's novel, Spelling Mississippi, features a poet who gets lucky.