The ink’s faithful flow

“The soul does nothing if you do nothing,

but if you light a fire, it chops wood; 

if you make a boat, it becomes the ocean.”
                                                           Robert Bly


I used to think my muse was fickle
but this month it’s become clear to me that
I’m the fickle one

demanding her full presence
before I dare to fill my pen

for she loves to meet me
in the ink’s daily, faithful flow

my middle finger
stained with purple ink
is pure poetry to her

the porridge burning
(yet again)
makes her smile
and love me all the more

bottle, pen, ink
in service
of the human heart
and of her craft
is all that she requires
desires
requests

and all the rest
(she whispers)
and all the rest
will surely
follow