APRIL #1: AN INVOCATION TO MY ACTUAL MUSE
Come visit, me, you.
But just for today, be nice.
Don’t come lugging that bag
of newspaper clippings from high school days,
those letters my mother wrote me when I was in college,
the piles of reminders of the failures
of my unsettled past. Stay out
of my journals and photo albums.
Don’t poke around in my closets or my dreams.
The check book, the credit card slips, the Status Updates–
none of your business.
Don’t slog into my study with that
pinched expression on your face.
Come skipping, for a change.
Don’t fold your hands over your heart
and sigh and blink back the tears.
Snap your fingers, ring some bells.
Don’t you have any clothes that aren’t gray?
I’ve never heard you laugh.
Do you even know how to smile?
Come today with a pot of fresh coffee
and a plate of homemade buttered bread.
Come accompanied by fiddle and flute.
Come with a bouquet of orange tulips.
Come with an empty basket
like the one I carry to the market
to fill with fresh green things.
The first of the “Poem a Day” discipline my poetry group is attempting