("The Clown" by Henri Matisse)
Cut me loose!
cries the muse
Let me run
down the page
spilling ink
from my veins,
flinging fear
from your brow
like the foam
off a wave
But please,
before I'm bled—
Let me linger here
on a period.
Roll back and forth
on your fat, unctuous
comma
Get squinched by
an em dash
Don the crooked crown
of your assonance
If only for one
more line break
or spasm—
Until I've been drained
of all form and substance,
run off the cliff of your
crumbling courage
Where I will collect my
bones in a sacred
reliquary
To put them up on
a shelf in your
closet
So they may sit
and shift
murmur,
foment
For you
And you alone
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