The Command

How much is this inspiration 
Difficult to bear.  I can be
Sitting here watching TV -
Suddenly he speaks to me,
My hands begin to hum
And he grips my fingertips
As if he'd pull me from
The chair;
Fetch a pen;
Begin his dictation.

I record it then -
quickly on the page before it goes -
Every word of his message -
And then the touch
Until I have to
Get up
Go through
And at my WP begin to type - 
Get it finalised 
In black and white.

Then, when it is done
And it satisfies my eye
And I read it over
Marvelling, his pressure fades 
As he relinquishes
My hands.

Then I go and make some
Tea; as if God 
Had not just been with me
And I were having
Any unremarkable 
The Book of The Scribe
Return to Collections all
next poem