the muse is a harlot of art
all beauty & desire
made up like a common trollop
to lure the uneducated cave-dweller
savage that I am
 
she offers meat & the spices
that arouse my hunger
and I bite into her feast
like a wild animal ripping into a fresh kill
 
in my bed she is languor & grace
my blue nude of sentient music & sleeping songs
and I sketch her in lucent & precise strokes
bold as Caravaggio’s paintings
 
she seduces me with her eyes & her feminine charm
amulet of amour
and my curiosity invades her
hard & impassioned as a man’s love gun
 
I ravage her in my madness
I sweat & I suffer   advancing   retreating
till I have adorned her walls
with the rivering  pearls of my essence
to prove my affection
 
when her screaming abates
she glows in euphoria   she surrenders
she knows she is mine
 
and she rewards me with this –
the poetry of her soul