The Muse 2020

The Muse 2020

She’d given him a magic wand
An infinite hard-on – this pen
Like a hair trigger gun
Like an indigo bomb
A nagging sex-crazed wife
With a razorʼs articulation
Obsessed with crisp diction
Rarely mum

Even as he wrote she chanted passages
And plotted ontological scenes
She appreciated a stiff pen
With a variation in themes
And of course her babies
Whom she dotes upon incessantly

She might leave him today
Or stay with him forever
He’s a fool to think he controlled her
Or ever could
Agelessly beckoning him with constrictive skirts
Way up to her ass
Ever provoking him
To irreverent spiritual in-appropriation
This celibate coitus drove him mad
She’s such a smooth violin
She’s such an elegant whore

What more could he ask
Him(Her) for?

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