The Muse Child

by Drora Matlofsky

I was asked to write a poem,
As if I could make the muse child
Sit still, be quiet and obey.

If I try, the child will lower her eyes,
Pretending to be a good girl,
While wicked thoughts cloud her brow
And make her eyes sparkle.

Will she write a poem?
Maybe she will,
But not the poem expected.
No sonnet, no terza rima,
Not even a tiny haiku -
Rather something shapeless and irreverent,
Something that stands on its head
With its hat on its feet.

Tell the muse
What to do.

If you do,
It's at your own risk.

Drora Matlofsky has been living in Jerusalem since 1984. Her poetry in English has appeared in various poetry and Jewish magazines and her poetry in French can be found on the Poésie Française site.

Last updated July 27, 2015