Muse

The frustration with an absent/uncooperative muse.

MUSE

I saw my breath
in you this morning
moist smoke
billowing from your lips
luxurious as a warm kiss, yet—

It turned to a rueful fog
crawling along my skin,
choking my thoughts,
until my exhale,
became a stolid winter,
a witless cough.

So too did my pen crack
like frozen perspiration.
Those words
seem desperate now;
scraping thick ice from
the windshield
in a torrential blizzard.

Come back, please.
Melt away this unpleasant
bite, melt away this ragged
edge, melt, melt
like a snowflake
On the scorched desert floor.

Sizzle.