My Muse


ago
1 min
19
readings
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Qualified
Image of Fall 2020
Image of Poetry
Not hard to identify, you,
sweet, familiar, within reach,
something amplifying light,
you misplace my words on paper,
I reach for the ink, unexpectedly create,
how’d you release humbled monsters from my head,
groveling in gray matter, now with ink they lay spread,
the clock
keeps
ticking so I take your hand,
I begin to trust you.
then out of sight.
I look for you,
frantic, my pen stalled,
fighting the tart taste left in your wake,
you alone lurk at the fringes of my memory,
Even as it hurts, I give chase with grit,
Mithridatism, they call it,
Trading my tears for your acidic ink,
My fingers tremble but it’s easier to think,
please take my hand once more,
Push me through a hundred doors,
And even as I fall, tumbling down,
I will toss you up my crown.
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