It is Friday: Go Right Ahead
I drank martini after martini while they “workshopped” their poems.
We extend the language.
We take our gin warm and neat.
I am writing this on a cocktail table in dim light.
My voice had a terrifying whiskey tone.
Speaking in public, be quite drunk, be manic, be very well prepared.
Planting words in you like a grass seed.
Let me sleep in your bed.
If someone burns out your eye I will take your socket and use it for an ashtray.
Fool!
You do drink me.
I sounded a bit drunk—but those things do happen.
Swim Poem
The Nude Swim
by Anne SextonOn the southwest side of Capri
we found a little unknown grotto
where no people were and we
entered it completely
and let our bodies lose all
their loneliness.All the fish in us
had escaped for a minute.
The real fish did not mind.
We did not disturb their personal life.
We calmly trailed over them
and under them, shedding
air bubbles, little white
balloons that drifted up
into the sun by the boat
where the Italian boatman slept
with his hat over his face.