Two Poems by Michael Estabrook

Dealing With the Muse

As far as that
pesky Muse is concerned
she’s there, feeling lazy
and sleeping inside you somewhere
all you need do is wake her up
and this is how you do it:
just start writing something,
doesn’t matter what.
Sit in a quiet place,
let your mind wander,
pluck something out of the air, anything:
school bus, blue bird, toothache, King Henry 8. . .
Doesn’t matter,
just pick something and begin writing.
Once you begin writing
(here’s the fun part)
the Muse will see you
are having fun without her,
she’ll be jealous (and probably pissed)
and she’ll jump into the action.
Trust me, give it a try.
Good luck.


If Becky got out she’d make a beeline
to the Shop-N-Bag in the center of town
let herself in through
the automatic door
head straight to the meat counter
help herself to chicken cutlets
or beef kebabs. Easy for her to reach
being a large St. Bernard.
Burt the store manager would call Herb
madder than a wet hen,
“Come get this damn dog pronto!”.
But never was Burt as upset as Herb was
that night Becky
gave birth to 10 pups
one of which came out deformed.
Herb held the quivering lump in his hands
cried and cried
buried it out behind the barn.


Michael Estabrook has been publishing his poetry in the small press since the 1980s. Hopefully with each passing decade the poems have become more clear and concise, succinct and precise, more appealing and “universal”. He has published over 20 collections, a recent one being The Poet’s Curse, A Miscellany (The Poetry Box, 2019).

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