Muse-Pie Press send e-mail
title
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Peter Grieco


Page 1 | 2

To His Muse

Here comes the scent of lindens,
a full moon pulling on yellow pestles,
distant, & impersonal with drowsy desire—
gross enchantments calling lovers
to spin, whirling in trance though they
barely move. Wake me, then, with the strong
wings of your determination, the acid
turn of your smile, with the tart, cool rhythm
of your speech, assuming me to yourself,
till I must act or not exist at all.
Into the heat of the yellow-green solstice
we fly, the orbit of our lives released,
their tethers unwound, parting again
before the lime drunk night can cover us.