Adrienne Rich passed away 27 March. Though ardently political and feminist, she had an unerring eye and ear for the relationships we come to and endure.
Moving in Winter (Adrienne Rich)
Their life, collapsed like unplayed cards,
is carried piecemeal through the snow:
Headboard and footboard now, the bed
where she has lain desiring him
where overhead his sleep will build
its canopy to smother her once more;
their table, by four elbows worn
evening after evening while the wax runs down;
mirrors grey with reflecting them,
bureaus coffining from the cold
things that shuffle in a drawer,
carpets rolled up around those echoes
which, shaken out, take wing and breed
new altercations, the old silences.
Poetry by countryfog
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Written on 2012-03-29 at 17:08
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Lawrence Beck |