To the Muse

I can’t decipher the torrent

Of verses when they start surging

I find your dialect foreign

As if I appeared in church and

The priest speaks at the podium

In sign language, fingers flailing –

Someone turned off the audio

And all communication is failing.

The priest is reciting your psalms,

Offering me to break bread.

I can’t even read your palms, -

Your palms are still bloody red.

Say something! A couple of words!

This silence is too grotesque.

I feel like I’m breaking codes,

And breaking apart at my desk.