THE PARLOR.

Ivanhoe Manor,

Milwaukee WI

(My Home)

My flat was the Parlor of a bloodless blue Mansion

 dating back to the late 1800s.

The light would flood

waves of poetry onto my skin,

across, beneath & between

 my most delicate parts.

At Golden Hour

my shadows would whisper each verse to me, 

the way Cohen would whisper to Marianne.

I wonder if I have ever been a Muse?

To a stranger?

To a loved one?

The way

 I felt Muse 

to the Star in my Parlor