in myth
there are nine muses
sometimes three osiris gathered them in ethiopia
or they are
daughters of zeus and mnemosyne
the lord of olympus
and goddess of memory

in my life
i have had a few

in the before
before writing
before finding my voice
before giving up on love
on dream
on anything more than exactly what i don’t have now

they inspired me
to live
to make jokes
to aspire to be more than
the shell of broken glass and multicolored thumb tacks
that fill this vessel of
me

one inspired me to seek happiness
i failed at that
one inspired me to seek
love
again
failure
one inspired me to seek
inspiration
elsewhere
in her need for more
and my need to be needed
we made love
without the love
implied

one was heartbreak
another shame
one was desire
another fanned the flames of addiction
using me as her needle
as i used her up
one in the same

i cannot recall most of their names
it feels silly
sitting here desperately
seeing their faces
remembering their taste
the smells of far gone days

but the names escape me
maybe
just maybe
that shows the temperamental
mysticism
of the muse

or maybe
most likely
it shows the feeble mind
of the fool

i had a muse
a year ago or so
that inspired me to write
again
she can be held accountable
for this manic word depot
helping form the frame

i had another
that encouraged the words
when no one else listened
she said they sang to her

how many muses
can one poor poet
draw into his web
of saccharine coated words

i have nothing else to offer
no promises of forever
no hope for today

just these words

in myth there were three muses
maybe it was nine
time has muddied the tale

in life i’ve had plenty
now just the one

but fleeting memories
of those
that came before
her
and these fleeting odes
of thanks
to them