To a Muse
i close my eyes to see her,
a faceless girl.
there are her sunburnt shoulders,
the freckles on her forearms.
i can feel the weight
of her sexuality
in the weight
of the pen.
hyperbolous expectations,
her syntax bone structure
- padded diction flesh -
tracing the clauses
of my face.
she is a verbal ghost
to lay my head between
the imagined milky white
of love letters etched
on loins.
this girl, in mortal frailty,
has become the embodiment
of my release.
i have spent literary orgasm
after orgasm
with her in mind.
none of the sonnets produced
were worth printing,
but I will leave this note here,
in a place where she will find it.
Poetry and art (c) 2005 Laura Marie DePierre
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