John Berryman
Dream Song 172: Your face broods
__________________
Tell me, Sylvia—
Were you brooding in the oven
Was it all just too much for you?
I brood a lot myself—
Here at my table late at night
Suicide thoughts come & go
________________
Ariel came on like a torrent—
Toward the end, all that pain
Agony and wrath of yours
In the beginning you knew—
You were a poet and when you
Became Mrs Hughes you knew
______________________
Brooding was the proper place—
The geography of grief never seems
To let any of us off the hook
I allow myself some resignation—
What else can I do about it when
I’m fighting the wronging tide?
__________________
Tell me, Sylvia—
Were you brooding in the oven
Was it all just too much for you?
I brood a lot myself—
Here at my table late at night
Suicide thoughts come & go
________________
Ariel came on like a torrent—
Toward the end, all that pain
Agony and wrath of yours
In the beginning you knew—
You were a poet and when you
Became Mrs Hughes you knew
______________________
Brooding was the proper place—
The geography of grief never seems
To let any of us off the hook
I allow myself some resignation—
What else can I do about it when
I’m fighting the wronging tide?
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