The strange and mysterious music of the Real Housewives of Atlanta returned last night. These women are so inspiring, they unlock the muse and all her mysteries. The only thing for us to do? Write poetry, of course.

Tinkle!
Like a million goldfish
scales clink clattering,
bewitching with your ululating monotone
enchanting the masses.
Writhing messiahs
hypnotize us with your
shimmering
tone.
Unlock the abysmal,
the primordial, the dark
dimension where alter egos lurk,
rumps rounding and popping
from a pole,
bicycles scattered,
greedy strangulation holds
causing grimacing rictuses
bloody and smeared on the
cracked windshield.
Heal us with your wailing.
Empty our minds and set our
hearts free
for dancing with
the muse.

Send an email to Brian Moylan, the author of this post, at brian@gawker.com.