LOCATION OF THE MUSE
She comes and goes? Or he?
Better: They come and go, the Muse.
Some mornings They wakes me
with Their laughter, leads me
down the road singing.
Some mornings They’re in, oh. . .
California, maybe. . . fighting
over water. Or in Poland, painting
rainbows around the head
of Their sister and brother. I don’t think
They ever goes to the white house
or congress, though it’s likely
they thrives on the Mall
among the placards and
in the quiet halls of the Museums,
which, after all, is Their houses.