Pegasus in golden wings
is my nemesis, seducing
Muses before I am able—
clippity-clopping along
riding on my flat-footed
wingless white Unicorn.
My steed advises me
to forget about Muses—
too full of themselves.
He claims all I have to do
is keep eyes and ears open,
become a keen observer
and I can paint my life
into a work of art.
He loans me his tail— a brush.
My seasoned imagination
struggles to write a poem
any President might read
at his or her inauguration
done with or without Muses.
I must rend asunder words
for one memorable poem
if I am to upstage Pegasus
in a constellation of stars
all my own.