A Perfect Poem for SW
Well, a perfect title anyway. Here is the final stanza from a longer poem by Anne Sexton, called "The Ballad of the Lonely Masturbator". Seems appropriate for this site, LOL.
The boys and girls are one tonight.
They unbutton blouses. They unzip flies.
They take off shoes. They turn off the light.
The glimmering creatures are full of lies.
They are eating each other. They are overfed.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.
I picked up a set of three of her books of verse this weekend and am just beginning to read them. She was a troubled soul, and an author of "confessional poetry", who died by her own hand in the 1970s. But also a brilliant and moving writer. The poem I've quoted here has six stanzas, each with a formal rhyme scheme and each ending with the same single line that serves as a refrain.
The boys and girls are one tonight.
They unbutton blouses. They unzip flies.
They take off shoes. They turn off the light.
The glimmering creatures are full of lies.
They are eating each other. They are overfed.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.
I picked up a set of three of her books of verse this weekend and am just beginning to read them. She was a troubled soul, and an author of "confessional poetry", who died by her own hand in the 1970s. But also a brilliant and moving writer. The poem I've quoted here has six stanzas, each with a formal rhyme scheme and each ending with the same single line that serves as a refrain.
56-60, M
