Carolyn Warmsun: The Visitor


When she is in the house
everything else comes to a stop
and full attention is paid to her

A demanding guest, she gives no
time for food, or laundry.
Her needs are always stronger—her voice
so sweet I must sing along.

At first the pace is exhilarating.
I feel relieved that she has returned.
But as the days go by, I tire.
Things pile up—I have no sox.

Unable to hold my eyes open after dinner
My book falls crashing to the floor.
I am getting through the days on coffee—
caught up in a drug-like sleep at night.

But I am creating work I love.
Paintings pour off my fingertips
in a fit of production that would
make Henry Ford’s eyes bulge.

I must pay court while I have her
for she will leave me suddenly
and I don’t know when she’ll return.
Yes, when the Muse visits, I give her all I’ve got.

cwarmsun – January 2012

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