I’ve no wish to obstruct the truth. The fault is purely mine.
The reason why I’m having such a struggle, line by line,
is because my poet muse is taking a vacation,
having lately moved herself to a new location.
She took my genius with her, in spite of friends’ directions
that I should submit her to most vigorous inspections.
In my innocence, I failed, for though I checked her cape,
her briefcase, pockets and her purse, she made her great escape
by smuggling my genius out, displaying her fine wit
by tucking it into a place where I did not find it.
No place could be more obvious, yet I didn’t think to peek
in the place where genius often hides—between the tongue and cheek!