Women
Women Or they should be should be pedestals little horses moving those wooden pedestals sweet moving oldfashioned to the painted motions rocking of men horses the gladdest things in the toyroom The feelingly pegs and then of their unfeelingly ears To be so familiar joyfully and dear ridden to the trusting rockingly fists ridden until To be chafed the restored egos dismount and the legs stride away Immobile willing sweetlipped to be set sturdy into motion and smiling Women women should be should always pedestals be waiting to men
May Swenson
Другие работы автора
Fountains Of Aix
Beards of water some of them have Others are blowing whistles of water Faces astonished that constant water jumps from their mouths Jaws of lions are snarling water through green teeth over chins of moss...
The Shape of Death
What does love look like We knowthe shape of death Death is a cloudimmense and awesome At first a lidis lifted from the eye of light:there is a clap of sound, a white blossombelches from the jaw of fright,a pillared cloud churns fro...
Feel Me
“Feel me to do right,” our father said on his deathbed We did not quite know—in fact, not at all—what he meant His last whisper was spent as through a slot in a wall He left us a key, but how did it fit
Motherhood
She sat on a shelf, her breasts two bellies on her poked-out belly, on which the navel looked like a sucked-in mouth— her knees bent and apart, her long left arm raised, with the large hand knuckled to a bar in the ceiling— her right hand clamping...
