He is neither brown nor black
And he never will be all mine;
He learned his hands on a machine's back
And his mouth on a long ago valentine.
He has less hair than he needs,
In the sun 'tis no woe to him or me.
And his voice sings deep as a frog in the reeds
or like whale song vibrating from the sea.
He loves me all that he can
And his ways to my ways resign;
But he was not made for any single woman
And he never will be all mine.
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5 comments:
I borrowed an idea from Edna St. Vincent Millay. I really love her poem Witch-Wife. I based this poem on that poem. I highly recommend reading it. Maybe I should call this poem Witch-Husband. LOL. Anyway, let me know what you think. Ann:)
Love, love LOVE the voice here. So sad- thick with wistful pain. There is such misery in non-reciprocal relationships...
Ah! I always love poems of longing and impossibility. Love this. Your voice here is different than I am used to with you.
Very nice, Anne. Hot stuff. And the focus on the man is pretty vivid and concisely written.
Your relationship with Edna Is wonderfully passionate. This is probably one of my favorites of yours.
I read "Witch-Wife" so I could see the comparison. I like the changes you made. The colors you chose as well as the comparison of the deep voice brings to mind a southern plantation worker, owned by the land. I'm glad you went with the title "Bending Edna." It clarifies to the reader what you did with the piece so there's no confusion for someone who knows "Witch-Wife." Nice work.
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