Dick
for Sylvia Plath
Some will read our story,
and will not understand,
why I left you, so selfishly
At your most uncomfortable.
I really was in a state,
where I had to limp away,
And limp it became yes, I was.
There was no steel pin in this heart.
I hope it is clear to you friend,
how dear you were to me,
A friend, my Buddy,
Some will not glean that,
from our story.
No, I am just a selfish girl,
Leaving you, so vulnerable,
so fearing of death, so
dismayed. Limp,
and limping away.
Crawled under that heavy mortar
with each pound about to fall onto me,
I took each pound like an ounce
down my throat.
Compared to the shocks
whizzing between my ears
(Like the sound of the ocean
But not nearly as soothing)
Ray Brook at Saranac
Wasn't such awful place,
But I was, as you know,
too splintered, almost broken,
So I split.
Well now you know where I went.
I wrote our story in such a way,
my dearest friend, so that I would
always seem the villain. While
some equally selfish girls
young co-eds on the prowl
will champion me,
I will tell you, I never meant
for that.
I only meant for them to hate me.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Tickle your toes. . .
-
driving home from the farmer's market- I can't see anything- through this storm- I come home to sleep- with you-rest in your arms fu... -
nipped at the ankles which is how I wander through life sometimes I must be pushed through a door finally opened after years of knock...
-
in August for John Keats I didn't die unrequited. I took a wife in August. My wife was wearing silky white shoulders holding out her bon...
-
Today I was interviewed for Poets United small stone: July 13th so many things for granted, taken: two kinds of silverware.
-
A woman's stance feet parted so that like a breezy window the mantle opened slightly lets in curves of salty air- but here there is no, ...
-
Reminder "You do not seem to understand," they'd say "That rivers are wide, and are not so easily crossed, we fear, they ...
-
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...
-
and now that the anger is gone there may be a few more glimpses like looking out of the window through a thin veil of silk. a look in...
-
July 7th the face of a rose deflates our windowsill- not much of a garden. July 8th after the party- a painting is crooked I think someone d...
-
No one cares for me, because I once cared for you. futile attempts to invigorate the soil with hands un-gloved, dirty deeds to provide my li...
Poets United Contributor
Amy, this has got to be my favorite so far!
ReplyDeleteI love the ending, please allow me to quote:
"some equally selfish girls
young co-eds on the prowl
will champion me,
I will tell you, I never meant
for that.
I only meant for them to hate me."
This definitely sounds authentic.
Cheers.
I hope so. I would hate to not be authentic.
ReplyDelete