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Long Abandoned Muse

Fish stuck in a kiss who are now singing forever,
Like over used words at the lip
Of the mountain in
Deep snow, knowing nothing about the moon, who
Is just there-
Just over the rise, where the angelic stags are rutting
In anamorphous movements-
There, like gold near the saddle, rising high
And swayed back like gods over
My childhood,
Like the golden sweat won upon a long hike,
And nudes upon nudes kiss,
Like kindergarten and goldfish all over my
Missbehaved childhood, but now- oh now, my
Long abandoned muse- what- and oh what,
Can they possibly be doing.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
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