‘It’s like I’ve got
a handful of metal dice
trapped in my skull,
rolling about in a biscuit tin’
I said rather desperately,
trying to explain my
distracted restlessness
‘I can’t concentrate
until I see what numbers
they land on,
and scribble them down
to decode them into verse’
She could have sliced through
the silence that followed,
but chose not to, her paring
knife returning to diced carrots
‘At least I have
my Constant Muse
by my side’
I added hastily,
with a Cheshire Cat
grin for good measure,
trying to get back
into her good books
The Muse didn’t say a word
Just looked at me funny
And walked out of the
kitchen with an eye roll,
that set off the dice
All over again
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