A Jealous God

The muse still torments me
every now and then.

I wish her the best; but she
seems almost helpless,
unless the haunting’s going on.

She thinks a psychiatrist
may do the trick: forgetting
she had a hand in the mess.

I guess I’m supposed to do
exactly what’s expected:
serving as a ghost confessor.

After all, she’s lonely
until she finds another life.

Or somebody else to deal with;
who may,
but may not be a stranger.

©Dean Baker

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