Wherein The Muse’s ‘Vehicle’ Goes in the Shop For Repairs

banner
 
****
The muse won’t tell a LIE….
the truth is, she must lie STILL,
teetering on the edge
of tomorrow’s forest
 
OK,
I made that up,
there is no forest,
(a jungle maybe)
the truth is, she must lie still
on the edge of a surgeon’s table.
 
All right,
I made that up too,
 she won’t be on the edge
of the table –
NO,
more like stage center,
at the head of the class,
letting all the young doctors
watch the surgeon
making tracks on her belly,
OK
another fabrication…
not tracks – incisions,
the surgeon will cut her
while her muse, pale and mute
wallows in drug dreams
leaving her body, her vehicle
in a complex heap,
a mess,
while they peer into whatever
openings the surgeon makes,
 getting all the answers for their files.
Once it is over,
she won’t LIE AROUND
she’ll be up and about,
revving the motor,
cruising the hallways,
LYING in wait
 for her belly to rumble back to life…
that rumble is the ‘get out of jail free‘ card
 the ticket out of the repair shop
 with a full tank of gas,
and that’s NO LIE !
 
****
©2013 Wabi Sabi
 
For The Sunday Whirl where the words for this week are -tracks, edge, files, lie, mess, complex, gas, forest, still, pale, answers, class.
For Poets United ‘poetry pantry’
 
I know this is a crazy, silly poem but it kept me busy as I prepare for surgery on Monday.  I do apologize for forcing the words to suit my agenda and especially for the ending. (Really!? Gas!?)
I will be off the poetry circuit for a few days but plan to return as soon as the drugs wear off and the muse sobers up!
 
If you would like to read another poem I wrote about my  ‘vehicle,’  here’s a link  to ‘Joy Ride.’
Until we meet again, peace!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Word-Play

******

they come like a passel of noisy children

invading dreams of saint and sinner

interrupting, impervious to love-making 

death-bed or candled dinner

 

they can pout in abject silence

slipping down the road of  chased thoughts , 

fragmented, demented, mocking from afar,

not easily bartered or bought

 

still the ragged poet bleeds and longs

for the  jagged muse’s holy songs.

******

©WabiSabi 2013 

 
Shared with d’Verse Poets ‘open link night’