This is me as a disposable poem - to be read in verse and in reverse

Dispose
after reading
me.
No need to re-read
after memorizing
my lines.
I am linear,
even in my curvatures.
I have curves
deep in the grave grace
of my depths.
Think of me departed;
not in plastic but in the flesh,
biodegradable
skin, tattooed on a head in the know.
Understanding me is a non-toxic affair,
shifting with sifted meanings; with inklings
not fixed in the softness of gold.
My value to you is paid
in attention.

(Now read the poem from last line to first before disposing of it!)

Curse

I've cursed my hand
With a cursive wand:
Seated, I make my angled stand -

All quick kung fu swirls;
The balancing of tai chi curls -
I even praise the elegance of girls.

I am in deepest love with curvy letters:
A slave chained to my slinkier betters;
I join each tattered letter with inky fetters -

My loopy words hold hardened hands;
Odd tourists lined up in strange lands,
They mock the local who misunderstands.

I tease more pleasure from your white pages.
Listen to your birds fly up out of broken cages.