For Anne Sexton
Night WorkingYour words run rings.
Sound of the telephone 2:30 a.m.
Not asleep, no.
I've stopped trying.
Work the dark shift, brother,
because you don't prefer daylight.
I work the dark seam,
slipping in between the dreams.
It is a middle ground that knows
no bounds and leaves my waking
mind racing.
I lock the door, crawl under
my desk, await your next
transmission, confession.
There are so many things
not worth having, yet I hold out
my hand in demand.
So many things left unspoken,
I would grow extra ears for
every last whisper.
And Anne is there above me,
typing out her dark words.
I lie against her bruised legs,
pray for our healing.
Later, she'll swallow the fumes
and leave me behind.
But don't take me instead,
I'll find my way back to bed.
Someone has to keep up
appearances.
--Collin Kelley, Better To Travel
Comments
"And Anne is there above me,
typing out her dark words.
I lie against her bruised legs,
pray for our healing."
i'm afraid of suicidal female poets, a little. too much identification.
unrelated: i wish i didn't have to solve a captcha every damn time i comment on your blog, collin! smooches.
This poem is so old. It appeared in Better To Travel in 2003, but I wrote it in 1993 or 94. It's not a great poem, but it does have a few good lines and it wouldn't exist at all without Anne. As I've said before, without her, I'd be nothing.
GAV
PS -- Is it my imagination or are the word verification captchas on blogger been really weird lately? The one for this is "shove" .
every last whisper."
Great stuff.
(And the word verifications have been extra odd/fun these past few weeks!)