Probably no one noticed the mornings I disappeared to sit in the trees. The light swarmed my face while I recited sonnets, each last line forlorn but with a tooth in it. I felt like God, only smaller, flailing my body in and out of the upper twigs. I lay in a spider's hammock, the deafening noise of the leaves like Claire's eyelashes. We were never two sisters sleeping uninterruptedly. Larvae in their cold dresses. The tree dragged me down against my will. I ran my hand defiantly through those leafy underarms, like a bar of soap in the mouth of a child. A lie is a cold hand with a light on it. It smacks the cowardly yellow chrysalis and all the little enemies spill out, all the little mothers and sisters. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AFTER THE WINTER by CLAUDE MCKAY ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY: THE HYMN by JOHN MILTON TO GOD AND IRELAND TRUE by ELLEN O'LEARY LOVE LIES BLEEDING by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 14 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |