My mind is in the deep freeze wrapped in airtight plastic, and who would want my thoughts even glossed by hollandaise? I have left my face with the baby-sitter and come here sketched in eyebrow pencil, hesitant as a dress in basting stitches, to stand beside my husband - my name tag - and watch the shrimp pass by, boiled commas nodding at the edge of a crystal bowl. The accountant's wife splutters freckles between the pink-bowed lattice of her open-backed gown. Ambition, a pulled tendon, aches through conversations. And I, trying to make jelly-glass gestures into Dresden, am an extra, an appendix, my function organized out. Take me home, husband, and we'll make love on the oriental rug, laying a little ontology on another pattern stylized beyond reality. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE OLD MEN by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS KATHLEEN MAVOURNEEN by JULIA CRAWFORD THE HEART OF A WOMAN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE BEAN-STALK by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP by GEORGE FREDERICK ROOT GIVE ME THE SPLENDID SILENT SUN by WALT WHITMAN THE LAMENTATION OF THE OLD PENSIONER (2) by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |