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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.