How To Soften Your Hands
I would wash dishes until my skin peeled off in ragged rinds
if only my plates and bowls would squeak,
you are happily married.
..........The husband shovels tunnels around
..........the shuttered house
..........waiting to be rid of the hungry horde.
*************************************************
I wrote this in response to Carolee's poem which she wrote after we played with Anne Sexton's poem Her Kind. It's sort of a letter poem.
Process note: I wrote it first without the snow and the husband, and ended with the pretty bowl. The husband wormed his way in. Should he stay?
Labels: Anne Sexton, letter poem, marriage
posted by jillypoet @ 9:43 AM
10 Comments:
Oh this one is really good. I think the husband should stay, in large part because I simply love the stanza "The wife inside would scrub the floor
with her tongue if she could taste
the true love the man claims in his soul." Or did you mean only stanza two and the last one wormed its way in?
"Say it again, silently, see if it tells the same tale." seems like a more concrete ending than the pretty bowl. It makes a demand on the reader.
jill, this is fabulous! so glad the snow came into it (it's quite nice: "not a day passes/ without someone tracking it in").
it inspired a response (to your response); it just took me a day to pull it together.
it's here.
You are so talented, Jill.
Yes, I also think the husband should stay. Unfortunately, he seems to belong to the poem right from "The husband shovels tunnels around ..."
You two are on a Sexton roll. I love it.
Isn't she a mesmerizing witch when she reads "Her Kind"? Imagine having a reading voice like that.
glad to see the husband stayed...
So interesting post! Thanks for sharing.
That is very kind of you to write this share for us, thanks a lot
Awesome blog. I enjoyed reading your articles.
Very interesting post! Thanks.
Thanks a lot for this post! It's cool.
It is great too! I hope you will post more and more!
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