Image for the poem Tawdry Muse

Tawdry Muse

My consort, a tawdry muse  
god willing the penicillin  
playing in her dollhouse
where mama smells of mothballs
now but a clothes tree  
as a shadow awakes
scratching my back
taking inventory of sanity  
I have nothing to lose
but some brandy and vanity  
paying the price serving her vice  
laying the darkness bare  
watching Doppler Radar
bringing in the fog
Written by adagio
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