INVOCATION TO THE MUSE by Jennifer Nelson
Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedHave you ever found yourself
harming the forest
out of rage at your own feet,
the leaves
so dense the wind
brings tones from them,
no sky but the sky's gift,
green sifted sun?
Walk with me o Clio,
I was wrong about your hands.
They are not the hands of death at all.
They are perfect, chubby yet skeletal.
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