Conversation With My Muse

In honour of National Poetry Day in the UK:

Conversation With My Muse


When you come

is it to rescue me from deserts

or to remind me of the tomb?

Reassembling parts

of a life harvested through imperfect eyes

my impoverished graces

dovetail the frame of a bloomed mirror.

Inadvertent lies

are the unwanted faces

of twice-wagered dice, the taunting of bankrupt old age

at the failure to infuse my tongue

with the suitably profound.

Aspiring to more than love or rage

I wait to be freed by song

as if there are notes to slow down time,

and slowed, for retarded time to be stopped by rhyme.