The Muse is at the back door tonight. Click-clack, tip-tap, scritchy-scratch!
If she comes in without asking
and eats your hot-buttered garlic bread
with sticky fingers and a toothy grin, be grateful.
If she crashes in after scratching the windowpanes
and rattles your kitchen pans,
and dares you, you better get moving.
There are consequences
for not heeding her call to move
from the kitchen to the art studio.
A visit from the Muse is not a given.
Sometimes she just slips out of the mystery
and into the mundane of your teacup.
Sometimes she breaks it.
Sometimes she scares you
and stirs memories of who you were.
Click-cluck-tip-tap-scritchy-scratch!
The Muse has a bone to pick with you.
Thank your lucky stars
that the bone is a wishbone…Careful now…
Don’t be so eager to get the big side.
Allow yourself to be marked by the Muse
with black pens and white paper
and paint the color of wildflowers.
She may even wrap you in red thread
A Muse to disrupt default identity is a sign,
a bringing of much needed change.
Wait….listen….do you hear her? Yoohooo!
She is calling you by your secret name,
the one you have long forgotten.
Click-cluck-tip-tap-scritchy-scratch!
Things may never be the same again once
The Muse is at the back door.
This writing is the opening poem from Wishbone Tattoo, Book by Shiloh Sophia (currently in editing process)