< 1
Someone’s set
my soul loose; I can’t get her
back. She’s out there, dancing
wildly, wonderfully released.
Prior craziness now
seems justified—those midnight
escapades to the underworld,
hoping (like Persephone)
to be rid of earthly chores;
the foolhardy fearlessness
that bared its teeth at friend
and foe alike: all symptoms
of an overheated heart,
surging upward
like a volcano, spitting
out sparks and toxic fumes
from a core of molten energy,
the creative source within.
It’s like a cat that hates
to be controlled, an apostate
of the religion of Busy,
or an unbridled horse, just
released from a comfortless
corral, kicking off
her shoes, dashing around
the room in giddy circles.
No way to quell this eruption,
no higher command
or Olympian pronouncement:
my Muse won’t come when called.
Alison Jennings is a Seattle-based poet who taught in public schools before returning to poetry. She has had a mini-chapbook and over 100 poems published in numerous journals—including Cathexis Northwest Press, Mslexia, Poetic Sun, Red Door, and Society of Classical Poets—and been a semi-finalist in several contests. https://sites.google.com/view/airandfirepoet/home