Invocation of the Muse, kitchen sink

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Invocation of the Muse, kitchen sink

Sing and soak me free. Scrape off the rice 
that’s crusted thick along the bottom of 
my skillet mind, and let the Dawn go slicing
through this grease-thick pan to loose
my pork-fat tongue. Wash milky words
from corners long unscrubbed. Flip over the spoon 
beneath my flow of thought
and let me soak the world. 


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