podium

 

My dear madam

in your dreams you say and

perhaps there I should stay among

the shadows and replayed minutes the

mixed up images and words the 

nonsensical mashup blathering along your

cortex filtering through your medulla creating

epics of running naked down busy streets and

eternal circles gathering dust among book stacks

where only I as your muse sort the dribs and

drabs tossing bits here and there as they rebound

bounce recur repeat with only I as guiding master 

bringing to fruition the final piece of random

letters on a blank screen perhaps that 

should remain my soulful purpose leaving the 

recitation to others better suited to utter 

fine words punctuated by nuanced gesture though

it appears you would have me do both to which

I cry “Fie! ‘Tis unfair!” to which you offer no quarter and

insist I touch the moon on your behalf but I watch your eyes

from where I sit darting about in your sleep and I am with

you as you conjure the future while dwelling in the 

past but you take my hand walk me to the podium and 

there I stand and there I begin

©kcasady2017