Kurt Philip Behm

Making Love To The Muse

She followed me downward,

her lips were on fire

 

From the depths of her lake,

every wish she inspired

 

Water everywhere,

lily pads on end

 

A frog left unkissed,

the price of pretend

 

She looked at me sadly,

the bottom came soon

 

My arms reached out madly,

to drown or to swoon

 

Her voice calling gently,

my spirit renamed

 

As my soul she undressed,

—inside her again

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2017)