Plover: Day 13

I spent two years in a bayou with an addict

I was no better than the people who think that

The stripper loves them, because I thought he could love

Me more than his next fix, pills and the powder that

Had its claws wedged deep in the folds of this boy's brain

I was sure I could love, resuscitate this brain

I offered curing balm: a love that turns its cheek

Drying bloody noses, accepting this habit

Becoming a cleaning plover bird to this croc

I picked this rotting pain from his sharp teeth, his habit

I think the bird loves the reptile, loves the chancy dance

I sure saw love in those green eyes, his sharp-fanged dance

One day, there was a nosebleed too many

Mutualism doesn't exist in this bayou

And you can't beat chemistry with a tender soul

Little plover bird, a sick host cannot feed you

Never pick selfish teeth, baby they want your heart

Crocs will eat you alive; they'll chew your kind heart

Prompt: "Donald Justice’s poem, “There is a gold light in certain old paintings,” plays with both art and music, and uses an interesting and (as far as I know) self-invented form. His six-line stanzas use lines of twelve syllables, and while they don’t use rhyme, they repeat end words. Specifically, the second and fourth line of each stanza repeat an end-word or syllable; he fifth and sixth lines also repeat their end-word or syllable. Today, we challenge you to write a poem that uses Justice’s invented form."