Lover’s Song

Since you ask, most days I can not remember.
I was wrapped in black
my hair rising like smoke from the car window
and I beat down the psalms
(notice how he has numbered the blue veins)
and I undid the buttons
(like carpenters they want to know which tools)
and the love, whatever it was, an infection
and then you called me princess.

Climb her like a monument, step after step
(he is bulding a city, a city of flesh)
then the almost unnameable lust returns
leaving the bread they mistook for a kiss.

This is not an experiment.  She is all harmony.

And then you crowned me
fireworks in the dull middle of February
face flushed with a song and their little sleep,
and as real as a cast-iron pot
the bones, the confusions.
You undid me and then
I stood up in my gold skin.

From the glory of boards he has built me up.
As for me, I am a watercolor,
have possessed the enemy, eaten the enemy,
and the love, whatever it was, an infection.

Source: Cento with lines from the following Anne Sexton poems: “Wanting to Die,” “For My Lover,” “Returning to His Wife,” “Mr. Mine” and “Us.”

Jill Crammond is a poet and artist, funding her passion for poetry by teaching childrens’ art classes in upstate NY.  Her work has appeared in Crab Creek Review, Weave, qarrtsiluni and others.

Comments are closed.