I do not
cannot love you
but somehow
I wonder if I do
because here you are again
inflating my heart
with your big ideas
that won’t leave me alone
and you of all people
shouldn’t be surprised by
what goes on in
our uncontrollable
expandable minds
and how many times
have I heard you
talk about sex
and the need for it
and even if you never said
that innocuous word
I’d still be wondering what
it would feel like
to be in your company
with our clothes on
and I’m certain
I’d be drunk with admiration
and unable to speak clearly
or arouse in you
the kind of interest
that would inevitably lead
to both of us naked
in the ocean
of a king size bed
so I’ll just confess
that this heady intoxication
is beyond my control
and means nothing more
than I am a sensitive human
moved by your humanity
so don’t worry
that I’ll disrupt or contact you
because Gerald Stern and I
both know that you must never
fuck the muse
or send them the inspired poems
which drip
with the condensed
and saturated beauty
of all this wanting
and wouldn’t you agree
that the meaning of some words
like love
must be calibrated for
the unexpected
but not unwelcome feeling
of affection that lingers
for an unwelcome
period of time
and makes it so hard
to imagine how
or why I’m so in love with you
when I couldn’t possibly
be in love with you
without reciprocation
or communication
not to mention
the closest we’ve come
to touching is me
reading your mind
which inhabits a fair amount
of real estate
on my bookshelves
so just to prove my love
I’ll make a vow
that I will never
say your name.

DeMaris Gaunt

2 thoughts on “Muse”

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