Letter to Kate
For William Blake
My Catherine Sophia,
as you would be known.
You were just Kate.
Child of Pity, full of mouth.
Widened but illiterate.
My ravishing apprentice,
who never refused me.
The first five years between us
may have been frightening, but
they were useful to you.
I turned you from a shaky
to a sturdy Mrs. William Blake.
Mrs. Catherine Sophia Blake.
My Katie Blake.
And your talented integers
covered with paint would
play like a girl on the
etchings of my heart.
No one would know,
you were my relief.
“Stay Kate! Keep just as you are –
I will draw your portrait –
for you have ever been an angel to me.”
Do not let those be the last words
I utter to you.
Let them be my first words to you.
“Do you pity me?-
Then I love you.”
Child of Pity, full of grief.
The five days after I had left you,
you stayed at my bedside,
doing what I asked of you.
Not as a pet-named lapdog,
But head resting on your hands,
head turned to the side
face slightly turned upward,
As I etched your portrait on the
sky of heaven.
And your mind filled it with color.
Tickle your toes. . .
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