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Untitled Muse

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by Debra Ifill, for outsideleft.com
originally published: May, 2005
Poems by Debra Ifill

Muse
My muse is so a-
                      Musing.
I'm using my muse
For all he used to be
And is to be.
My muse brings
music,
lyrics,
poems,
He sings to me.
I'll use my muse
Until he's dry,
But I swear I'll be so good to him
He won't refuse....
He knows he's mine.

-- - - -

Untitled
I used to, so easily
Tell myself I am a worthwhile child.
But now,
Everything about me
That still is infantile
Is such shame,
And I will be hung
Everyday
For the tragic,
Thick like fudge cloud
That is my mind.

-- - - - - - - - 

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