back silvered back
what mirror doesn’t insist
that you come back
just to be sure
that a different you
is taken away
the receipts on the spike
grow as tall as the stories
in this house of mirrors
the lie is reflected
back and forth
a perpetually adjusted tie
editing
is that splat dross
or the icing on the cake
leave it
there
lick your fingers
mmmm the muse
the muse
gasp
you can’t speak without breathing
for air is free speech
you cannot write a poem without the muse
who comes uninvited and without a fee
if you stop speaking or writing until you are paid
you will smother creativity
and maybe
just maybe
i will never return
it said
chaplet
on lengthening vines
all the rest less
birds of summer
talk is of going south
of following the old birds
their taste tales of Africa
with their tails in the air
are you ready
steady …
twittering
overwintering
the cat’s dog days
a cat stalks
the sun
in the lavender stalks
it all talks of
the dog days of summer
that have been seen off
how the words fall
that have seen it all
the cat twirls three times
and dozes off
