That conversation we were always on the edge of having,runs on in my head.
At night the Hudson tremblesin New Jersey light.polluted water yet reflecting, even sometimes, the moonand I discern a woman I loved.
Drowning in secrets,fear wound round her throatand choking her like hair.
And this is she with whom I tried to speak, whose hurt, expressive headturning aside from pain,is dragged down deeperwhere it cannot hear me,and soon I shall know I was talking to my own soul. This is poem XX, from Adrienne Rich's Twenty-One Love Poems collection, written between 1974-1976. These were originally published as a complete collection but were later re-published and included as part of another collection of works, written between 1974-1977, called The Dream Of A Common Language.
Twenty-One Love Poems and The Floating Poem, (un-numbered) can all be found here at oldpoetry.
