You Are the Answer
p
Listen! Listen!
We are not lovers.
We are like pigeons
after the small death.
They have teeth and knees
because they share the same dirt.
…………..Even their song is not a sure thing
……………….it is a kind of breathing—
…………………….we gasp in unison beside our window pane.
p
Listen! Listen!
The girl full of talk of coffins and keyholes
with her large gun-metal blue eyes
with the thin vein at the bend of her neck
………………then your hand in her hand
………………………with an old red hook in her mouth.
p
We are not lovers.
Now there is green rain for everyone,
their red claws wound like bracelets,
…………tired of my mouth and my breasts,
………………..each one like a poem obeying itself.
p
Listen! Listen!
The king has brought me into his chamber.
I’ve been opened and undressed.
Then the chains were fastened around me
……………..(even their song is not a sure thing).
After the small death
……………..it is a kind of breathing.
P
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I chose these three Sexton poems: “Man and Wife”; “Love Song”; and “Consorting With Angels”, because they seemed to speak from the same place of melancholy and longing. I tried to find pieces that resonated with a similar tone/voice. They are all from her collection, Live or Die. After choosing them, I discovered an author’s note which confirmed that I was on the right track.
p
Sexton wrote, “To begin with, I have placed these poems (1962-1966) in the order in which they were written with all due apologies for the fact that they read like a fever chart for a bad case of melancholy. But I thought the order of their creation might be of interest to some readers, and, as Andre Gide wrote in his journal, “Despite every resolution of optimism, melancholy occasionally wins out: man has decidedly botched up the planet.”"
i love the repetition in this: how it’s shape repeats on the page. how some of the lines repeat.
i was pleased also when i learned that “live or die” was presented in the order in which the poems were written. it seemed so clear as i read them about how the turmoil wasn’t just in the present, but stretched out ahead. if that makes sense.
I enjoyed this one as well. The way you constructed it visually is rather intriguing, and the last stanza kind of reached out and grabbed me. I don’t so much get longing as I do melancholy, the ruins of a bad love affair, and a sense of being trapped along with futility (“we are not lovers”).
-Nicole