What If It Is Not Even Poetry
Why rhyme you ask?
Because it is fun, it is easy, and my mind is broken.
SCREECH……………………………………
Stop that! I warn myself. We have had more than enough of that.
Trixie picks up a feather duster and plucks a feather
There is a savage warning on her face.
I cringe.
Why write poetry?
Because to not write it is to not be in touch with ourselves at all
I say with shaky confidence
Waiting for someone to bop me on the head for saying this.
Trixie puts on her Groucho Marx mask and wiggles her eyes.
I feel greatly relieved that I have gotten away with this thought.
She narrows her eyes, and I look away. Scared.
Are other people terrified of their muses or is it just me?
But what if it is not even poetry?
I ask myself. It comes out as the BIG question.
The one I always think of, but rarely feel brave enough to voice.
It matters not, I assure myself.
My fans are forgiving.
They will forgive me this too.
Trixie begins figure skating on the desk.
She is wearing a pink tutu with glitzy sparkles.
We are okay, she assures me. Let's do this.
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2019
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