Mused

When I whispered your name

a question for the nighttime,

weary and sad

in the deep dark,

it was silly I know

but I almost believed

Id hear his answer

calling out

beyond the tide,

the veil,

ground and heaven.

I sip coffee slower now,

feel empty in restaurants

and kitchen tables,

weep watching

old movies

you and I glowed at

together as kids,

growing up in Michigan marshes

with dragonflies our secret holders

and the clock ticked with

less of a harshness and demanding then.

Blank lines,

dead forests,

narrow hallways

with squeezed contorted faces,

the mystic lamp

grows so dim

amongst the collectors’ clamor,

always thumping at my head,

cold gold bricks

and curses.

But even so,

the magic that dripped

off her tongue,

oh my,

it made me quiver,

to sit on my floor

with her inked mused spirit

washing in on me

tender but strong

like a wave

reaching its fingers

to the moon.

It seemed fated almost,

like my spirit,

without really knowing it,

had been intertwining

a melody into the cloud cover

and you had noticed,

like a glimmer of something familiar,

and walked into my life

with such a light

it made me tremble

in the beauty.