'What to Expect', by Allan Lake
Muse flits off to some other fool before
even taking a shower. You can smell that
one coming before she momentarily takes
up residence, like she owns the/my place.
Rank but intoxicating. I suppose whoever
comes after might unknowingly feed on
my leftovers. I am putty at those breasts,
worship the whore and, while dreaming
she might be my one true, submissively
swear never to imagine that She, who
can’t be domesticated, belongs to me.
Attached, I kiss those nipples, clamp
onto a point, serve my wee sentence.
Firmly clutching my pen, g-giggles,
promises sweat fuck-all but dumps
a slippery, screaming love-child.
Something ugly for me alone
to nurture, neglect or destroy.
Then, she’s off elsewhere.
Between trysts you toil,
knowing you aren’t
her only one.
Allan Lake is a migrant poet from Allover, Canada who now lives in Allover, Australia. Coincidence. He has published poems in 24 countries. His latest chapbook of poems, entitled ‘My Photos of Sicily’, was published by Ginninderra Press. It contains no photos, only poems.
Calliope, Muse of Epic Poetry by Charles Maynier (1798)