Poe's Raven

Poe’s raven came to me in my sleep, at the most unexpected time. At first I thought it was just a raven, but it gave me a look and I knew. Recognizing Poe’s sadness shining out of its piercing black eyes. Were you his muse? I asked him. He glared at me, refusing to answer. An instant knowing came into my head though, and I knew. It was a knowing without knowing how I knew, I just did. Are you hear to help me write? I asked the raven. He stared, refusing to answer. Trixie, my dainty prima donna pixie muse flitted into view and gave the raven a slap. The raven did not move, or recognize her in any way, which I thought was admirable. Trixie can be a bit of a vixen sometimes. She began painting the raven’s beak with acrylics. She put on pinks, oranges, and a bit of red. I was holding my breath, anticipating a brawl. But the raven merely tolerated her insolence with those black non-blinking eyes pretending to ignore her. Trixie finally gave up and stomped away angry – that extra hard way a teenage girl stomped. I could tell that she was miffed. She has been my main muse for many years. “Let us now begin” the raven said to me, using telepathy. I wondered if he would also channel Poe. I can use every bit of help I can get after all.