The story goes as it should.
The Man sits and the Woman looks
at him, face to face
glaring eyes looking
A fire burning
and a microwave singing blips.
I am heating some food, the Man says.
The Woman, still starring straight
into his eyes, weak he felt
fiddled with a gaze.
Stunned in half a second.
Such a weakling.
He brought the plate and put
it in front of her. She was
still silent to the point that
he thought she was done.
Over and long gone.
The Woman finally says
Your Muse is mine to give
and without it
you writing is hollow
empty, gray shells upon the sand.
Buried.
What do you think will happen
if it comes alive again, she asks.
The Man, not a word spoken
not a single phrase uttered
though he was always good
at speech.
She says : “you’ll have
a screaming thing in a coffin
in a cemetery, and the guard
will go crazy.”
I am crazy, and so are you,
the Man manages to utter.