Jeff Connelly Poet I do not know?

We Are Not Amused

my muse threw
the food i made
for breakfast
across the
table

no burnt toast

once i confused
my muse with a
guitar trying
to strum
her

deconstructionalism

all over again as she
turned into a Pete
Townshend and
said, "Who?"
smashing a

1978 Martin dreadnought 

once when i refused
but she already 
knew for shes
my muse

wrote a poem about
her penguin feet
she said, "You
leech. That

was a secret between
you and me." but i
told her, "i tell
all that you

tell me
because
after all you,
you are my muse."

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Richard Lamoureux September 28, 2019 at 8:38 PM My wife spilled boiling water on her foot as a child. She has a slightly webbed toe. She would be mortified that I am sharing this tidbit. Jeff Connelly September 29, 2019 at 11:22 AM If I would happen to ever meet your wife Richard, I wouldn't tell.

P.S. Awtry September 27, 2019 at 12:06 PM I too wrote of my muse this morning. This is splendid. I love the image of your muse smashing a guitar. Jeff Connelly September 27, 2019 at 12:36 PM Thank you again Awtry. Maureen seems to be the only one that knows my Muse (mi Musa) is a real person. Most of my poetry is true to life even in its absurdity, other then any of my whimsies. But I do have a 1978 Martin, and mi Musa says she has penguin feet; all I need to do is fill in the gaps. Thanks Awtry.