Striking Keys

Striking Keys

 

Striking Keys
Karyn Indursky
June 2012

 

My muse ran away with my hand
to chase away the boy
dangling his limbs from the ceiling fan.

 

My muse ran away with my hand
to tickle bare feet
soaking in the pool.

 

My muse ran away with my hand
to bite into a peach
dripping like waterfalls.

 

My muse ran away with my hand
to serenade an infant
cradled to the bosom of poetry.

 

My muse ran away with my hand
to strum chords of hearts
by striking keys.

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