WANT
by Caitlin Muse

Want

The heart wants
What the heart wants.
Strange fist, wild thing.
Said to be blind, but isn’t Want a fruit with vision at its wet center?
Some are doors hushing closed, others doors rushing open.
Some hearts are chiseled from sapphire or onyx,
Moh’s Scale of Mineral Hardness --- spanning the gamut,
Numerology of Austerity.
Others---slip and mud,
Putty poked, kneaded,
Warmed in dusty lined hands.
Both, composed in part of mercurial mist, blustering gusts and blistering blaze.

Antique Row

Guh-muhrneeng!”
Exclaimed the sticky-eyed homeless guy outside of the liquor store,
Swept by the elegance of his remark,
My eyes swung to meet the target of his gesture across the street.
Two reindeer stood in a triangular enclosure of rented fencing equipment
Atop the Handicapped parking spaces at the Turn of the Century antiques shop.
I remembered hearing that due to climate change,
Reindeers had begun to shrink.  Become smaller.  More diminutive.
The British Ecological Society’s paper was titled “Small is Beautiful”
Which I found unsettling.  

About the Author:

Caitlin Muse is a Denver native raised on a steady diet of Shel Silverstein, T.S. Eliot, Wallace Stevens, Patti Smith and William Blake. Writing poetry since she was a little girl, as treasures to be sent in the mail to her grandfather, poetry has always been a constant for her and something that she cannot imagine existing without. Recently turning a milestone age, she has begun the harrowing journey of submitting a few of the poems that have composed her life.