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
X
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.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
-
there ain't no other place like you to roam. where I dug in my heels and said "No, I won't come home!" Dancing in the warb...
-
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 i...
-
Ah, 7. The number in question. During this process of developing my first full-length work of prose, and a memoir to boot, I have considered...
-
Telegram For William Carlos Williams To{Florence Herman RECEIVED DIFFICULT NEWS /stop. ARE YOU AT ALL AVAILABLE?/stop. JUST BOUGHT THE HOUSE...
-
That previous December, a little voice was coyly in-treat-ing: "Take an angry butcher knife to your hair, and paint it the color of a s...
-
Another Indian woman living on our block has hair swept back and braided has jeweled toes, is in all yellow traditional regalia, and walks w...
-
Under a blanket it was at high altitudes in love or nauseous? I once held his hand his touch was so soothing-but with a lion's face. and...
-
like a hand that holds an ankle, I felt powerful in your arms this dancing, this pointed push, this bygone cloud. with my face in your belly...
-
At age 25 for Sir John Donne Down went San Felipe. Crimson and pale, rippling, clinging to it's mist. Oh, how that flagship hurled itsel...

don't be lonely!
ReplyDeleteand this really was a fabulous piece :))
lol. thank you.
ReplyDelete"My ravishing apprentice,
ReplyDeletewho never refused me."
I adore that bit.
As I etched your portrait on the sky of heaven, and Blake, too?? Very nicely done. I know you said you studied or rather have your degree in Literature, something I had only hoped to tackle in my dreams, but you have done it, and a success you are. Blessed to have known you for such a short time as a poet.
ReplyDeletethank you, yes I actually studied Blake closely for one of my classes, as he is a favorite of mine. I did a close study of his light and dark imagery in his chimney sweeper poems, and in his poem London. I really attempted to pick apart Blake's opinion of his own city, and his stance on the plight of the forgotten and neglected.
ReplyDeleteI had a ball doing it.
you humble me, I am always lamenting the fact that I do not yet have my MFA--which in my mind would be a ticket to writing full-time,
I guess having a B.A. is an accomplishment althought some academics would have you believe differently...