The Tenth Muse at Midnight

Your palace last

night in vodka

dreams

pretending I was

The King of Prussia.

You

the virgin princess

dark hair spilling

over the edge,

translating sonnets

on satin sheets.

In old darkness

I leave you

hating hotel rooms

while spending your lifetime

trying

to get the words

right.

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6 Responses to The Tenth Muse at Midnight

  1. nochipa says:

    Scott,

    I love the way you write. It’s a joy to read and there is “something” there, depth, beyond pretty words or intellectual spill on paper as so many poets are and beyond just pouring adolescent emotions. You have a real talent and have honed it into a fine art. I’ll be back.

    Nochipa

  2. Scot says:

    Thanks for the read and kind comment.

  3. Sara says:

    Love the romantic wistfulness of this piece.

  4. Scot says:

    I appreciate your comment

  5. johemmant says:

    yes, so wistful, excellent.

  6. Scot says:

    Thanks for the visit

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