Elevenses (Muse #3)
Iím under the duvet, dunking
your empty head
in a barrel of flat imagination.
Thatís the idea. You hang on, while I freshen
my cup. You donít know it,
but itís a doss-job, this being
a muse. This could be a night-dress,
could be a petticoat,
what do you think? Note this down:
the thin linen, in which I will linger
as long as I like, is
actually flax. Natural wax.
Iíll give you this, youíre persistent,
but I wonít iron
your wrinkles. Iím amusing. Ho.
Try taking the biscuit
and breaking it like code. It fits? Itís
a good job, too, like mine is,
nice work if you can get it.
I will enthuse you.
I am a muse, you see.