“Anne, I understand”
1. It's one of those things. We all go through them. Our little sufferings. We all have our own little sufferings. How many children did you bring? Up-swing. How was your upbringing? Womanhood is synonymous with duty. Oh, I absolutely wanted you here. You complete the room. Wear green. Blue. No black. No doom or gloom. And where's your other better half? Your groom? 2. They asked me these questions in a different time. They asked me them on a different day. You changed it all for us. You showed the suppressed female another way. You made us see right through them. Their transparency. You wouldn't let them hide. You ripped rubber gloves off. Dug right in. Your voice etched onto vinyl records is now therapy. Thank you. For the attitude. Thank you. For acknowledgment of every shade of moon and mood. Thank you for peach lipstick, and jealousy, and pyrotechnic poems, and accusing eyes. 3. I imagine it was hard at the end. Harder still, in the moments you were sure it was the end and it wasn't. You kept pounding along on a typewriter, on a wooden door, dry skin cracking in winter, bloody knuckled. I can imagine a smoke filled room with you. You are the smoke. You blend into the wallpaper because our host says it's vintage. You make jokes and I'm your ventriloquist's dummy speaking in your voice. I have no choice. You felt that too. You over-explained yourself. The worst and best and gross and beautiful parts of yourself. Your books line the shelf in the hospital, where I'm surprised you're not banned. “Anne, I understand.” Sylvia's Medicine this medicine // laced with dreams of dying // elderberry mash // melts quickly on a raspberry tongue // sylvia left a message // she is // the entire town’s favorite reminder // she is // often stuck in my throat when I ponder goodness // swallow medicine // like pumpkin seeds // teeth breaking on the outer shell // sylvia says I need to get out more // but this medicine // makes greens appear blue // turns them electric // makes red appear where none should be // “sylvia’s bleeding” // she doesn’t notice the jagged shell // embedded // in her pomegranate foot this medicine // wakes me up fifteen minutes before // the alarm clock curses // makes the sun catcher prisms dancing on the creamed walls look magnified // magnificent sylvia never cries // she let me // put this medicine // on all her beach wounds // I’m different // I cry as she hands me // this bag // of this medicine // she’s different // she lets me Poetry: This Place is a Sorry Excuse For a Hell by Jennifer Patino Poetry: Angel Light by Jennifer Patino Poetry: It Starts by Jennifer Patino New Poem “Gutter Girls” by Jennifer Patino Audrey Hepburn Challenge: Some Things A Lady Just Wears Well by Jennifer Patino Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Jennifer Patino
Lovely poems Jennifer! Both of them are wonderful tributes to Anne Sexton and Sylvia Plath!
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Gorgeous poems Jennifer!