While you were away
I matched your socks
and rolled them into balls.
Then I filled your drawers with
tight dark fists.
Jane KenyonThe Socks
February 18, 2010 at 12:25 am
And before rolling and stuffing into the top drawer, grandmothers darned them… and sometimes damned
the men who wore them out!
February 18, 2010 at 4:17 pm
Ok – I get it; just don’t fold my underwear.
February 18, 2010 at 5:58 pm
Oh, wonderful Jane Kenyon—wish you were still on earth writing your perceptive poems! I think the great thing about this short work is the way it opens itself to multi interpretations. I think the anger is about fate and whatever has taken the sock owner away.
February 21, 2010 at 11:04 am
It reminds me of Yehuda Amichai’s poem,
A Dog After Love
After you left me
I let a dog smell at
My chest and my belly. It will fill its nose
And set out to find you.
I hope it will tear the
Testicles of your lover and bite off his penis
Or at least
Will bring me your stockings between his teeth.
February 22, 2010 at 6:40 pm
Ah, Jane Kenyon-I miss her so. Thanks the poet gods for books.
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