placed there by adoring sentiments
made to seduce me into the dark embrace of conceit –
removing myself from…
forgetting to remember to honour the muses
who fill me before my pen.
it’s a teaching in humility:
this crumpled parcel of longing to reach
above my station
when the ruler of this tiny realm
is the word
knocking me out
tipping me off
when I get too full of myself.
r. l. elke