The Muse

muse2

The Muse

He has given me a magic wand,
An infinite hard-on – this pen,
Like a hair trigger gun –
Like an indigo bomb

And a nagging, sex-crazed wife
With a razorʼs articulation,
Obsessed with crisp diction –
Rarely mum

Even as I write sheʼs chanting passages
And plotting ontological scenes,
She appreciates a stiff pen – a variation in themes,
And, of course, her offspring
Whom she dotes upon incessantly

She could leave me today
Or stay with me forever,
Iʼm a fool to think I control her, or ever could
Agelessly beckoning me with constrictive skirts
Way up to her ass,
Ever provoking me to irreverent copulation,
This celibate coitus drives me mad

Sheʼs such a whore!
What more could I ask Him for?

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