On The Muse As Sadist

Originally posted on 9/10/2006.

I was sleeping,
joyfully dumb and numb,
when you insisted
I get up and talk to you. 
I’ve turned on the laptop.
What now? 

Offer me something — a hint,
a sign, even a direct question —
and I’ll snap to it. 

Give it to me quickly if you can
and if you can’t
let me get back to sleep.

I’ll do everything I must tomorrow —
earn a living, 
make friends, 
save myself — 
and after that, I promise
I’ll come back to you 
and take down
everything you tell me. 

I’ll be all yours
tomorrow night
if tonight you will let me sleep —
there are things
more important than poetry, 
in case you haven’t heard.

But of course,
you haven’t heard.
There’s nothing else to be done, so
I give up.

My hands are on the keys.

I’m as angry with you 
as I am breathless 
to find out what it is 
that you want.