Deceptively simple in its structure, this poem maps the anxious joy that follows any peak experience. Plahm begins with the afterglow of accomplishment (“you did something excellent / Beautiful, enticing, delicious”), then pivots to the existential questions that accompany it: How do you follow that? Keep that? The poem’s genius lies in its answer—the rush isn’t about replication but recognition. The repetition of “When I can tell you are beautiful / and I know you are beautiful” distinguishes between perception and certainty, between seeing and knowing. The closing declaration (“And I know / It will continue”) resolves the earlier anxiety with quiet confidence. This is a love poem that doubles as a meditation on sustaining creative momentum, with the Muse serving as both romantic figure and artistic inspiration.

A compact, emotionally resonant piece that accomplishes more with less. The short, breath-like lines create a sense of urgency that mirrors the subject matter—the rush itself. Plahm wisely resists over-explaining; the poem raises its questions and trusts the reader to sit with them. The distinction between telling and knowing beauty adds philosophical depth without pretension. The final pivot to “My Muse” earns its capital M through the emotional work that precedes it. Some readers may find the middle section’s questions too abstract, and the poem’s brevity leaves certain ideas underdeveloped. But the closing assurance (“It will continue”) lands with earned conviction—a poet who has found his anchor.