Muse

on the surface, it's banter
i ignore the wisps of fantasy that drift through my mind
and the warm dampening of my hands
i allow those responses to simmer
since the cause is elusive-
-the divine hand trying to bond us and bind us
inviting us to redefine love
trying to make us notice every freckle and fleck,
every twitch and tease

and when i say i am raw or tired
i mean that i am tired of noticing and interpreting and withholding
i mean that my barriers are about to give
and that i will soon feel more than is socially acceptable
or personally tolerable
or practicable once felt
i feel myself unravel as i look into your eyes
at how your irises are dark and deep
and how, while physically similar,
you are so unlike your father
determined and possessed in a completely different way

but you will never be my lover
and i am terrified of taking a new muse

taking a muse divides the soul
into egoic anarchy and creative slavery
and the only choice is when exactly
to beg your pardon
and withdraw
that i might write for hours
tipping my ear to the river of song
that flows through you

Location:San Francisco, CA