Muse on My Back

Muse on My Back

On my back rides a muse who lands

on some mornings without warning,

but when there, words pour from me

like ink from a quill pen stuck in position.

I love this muse, yet sometimes cannot stand

him because he controls me and doesn’t allow

me to do anything but write on his command.

When he’s around, I cannot divorce myself

from my words. I can barely pull myself

from this chair to prepare a cup of tea or

answer door for FedEx dropping off a box —

something my daughter ordered on EBay,

or make dinner for my family. It’s funny how this muse

makes me feel like a derelict who gets nothing else done.

My left mouth complains of his arrival

and right side bows with thanks

because when he leaves

I beg for his return.

Sometimes he swoops down at wrong times.

I am scared to ignore him because

I never know when he’ll march

back into my life again…but I’m always ready.

_