After D.H. Lawrence

Jennifer Footman
From:   Mix Six, (a collection with Bernice Lever, Ted Plantos, Kathy Fretwell, Allan Briesmaster and Judith Stewart). Mekler and Deahl, 1996.

He said, build your ship of death,
for you will need it. Silly me,
arrogant still, thought I had made
my last will and testament. I truly did.

Over and over again I wrote my words
in stone--granite, speckled and pure
--and found them crumbled, dust to dust,
back to the beginning. Repetition itself can kill.

Once more I took Persephone
by her offered hand. I imagined her to be my friend.
I closed my eyes to see her fluted path,
her cunning lips. The dry asp

tongue suckled my breast, I was nearly hers
done for, gone into her darkness,
this trip had to be the final one.
Just one more glance, just one more chance

to see the sun and all was lost
my will was broken. I could not cast
this die.

Poem 1 | Poem 2 | Poem 3 | Poem 4 | Poem 5 | Poem 6

Jennifer Footman's works copyright © to the author.