Trick of Light
dark glance from the table in the corner;
she stares & you stumble
half drunk from the second's hope
or trick of light that trapped you in her eyes.
but what's a muse if not a trick, a risk,
some fleeting moment of unknowable fear?
go on, sit down
take the empty chair an arm's length
or heart beat's distance away from her;
make an ass of yourself,
make something of yourself-anything.
you look back & she's gone,
what's a muse if not an illusion,
man's desires made manifest
in flawless impossibility,
or flawed perfection blurred to new proportion?
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