Eclipse of the Moon by Mary Susanah Robbins - HTML preview

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the apartment is falling to ruin


sandpaper, linseed oil, ammonia

I'm in terrible trouble about Tom

and nobody knows it


this is the way I am now

maybe someday it will be otherwise

and I will not like to think of this time

when I sat planning my spiders and my pleasure


arranging things, fixing things

knowing something is left out

myself as I was

neither woman nor child, and strong

neither the outline of a person, nor its ghost

and courageous, and glad as hell


to make a poem

you have to bore a hole

through the chest wall

to attack yourself

your conditions, your sleep

as though you were your mortal enemy

whom you had met at last on a lonely road

on a night when the stars froze your heart


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