You don’t find a muse,
They’re thrust upon you
The good ones won’t accept
The bad ones don’t know how Muses turn out
So they dance
But the best ones would melt you in their crockery with lips this close to your ear
Telling you how to revise your work
They’re beautiful
Achingly beautiful in none of the ways they should be
They shake at the same frequency some say
But this is false
They harmonize again and again then break your face into tears of rejection
Not teenage breakup
The heavy stuff
The pull your ear off, fill your pockets with pond and rocks stuff

And walk you back before you are lost
Start again they say
Oh, and kiss you
The kiss to sway love
but not in the way you would be kissed
No if you wish the cheek you’ll get the lips
And vice versa
Muses are not mythical or rare
Some come in dozens
Some visit annually
But the true muse
You both hate and admire
Despise and long for
Would baby then be cradled in return
True muse, so it goes, gives you what you need
Even if it breaks her
And you will break her
Every time you put your pen to page


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