IMOGENE’S NOTEBOOK
A Poet’s Muse
A poem
I’ve returned to the sea she first came to me
craving her ecstatic touch
life becomes dull without.
Cast upon waters of fathomless chill,
its salty brine what stains my craft
within reach of Conceit’s shore,
Rocked by a surface disturbance,
wave after wave,
bubbles flirting with drips off oars.
Wave after wave after wave,
Insight’s sails fill with awakened senses,
a miracle if something unknown visits.
Out of the gathering darkness,
figures pure briefly surface
then swim away forgotten.
Wave after wave, and wave after wave,
unreliable lover keeps me waiting,
wrecking my schedule, no reservations taken.
What’s this? I think I feel a nibble.
Sun-caught scales aglitter creating shadows,
dancing fish-ball frenzied escape.
Suddenly a blow:
unfeathered wings cross threshold
launching atmosphere like a devil ray mother.
More bounty than my net can hold,
gaff hook grabbing wildly
in a frenzy of ever-astonishment.
But Inspiration’s the jealous type,
wishing to keep my body for herself unchanged,
and I already imagining adulation on a famous chef’s sold-out tables.
In a tug-o-war, most is lost overboard,
much of what’s kept after deckhand’s skillful knife
discarded on deck lies
Fresh with guts and blood,
chum for traps,
food for crabs.
Yet, one nice striped bass I’ll keep
to share with those who gather tonight
around my humble table.
