The Bell Jar: Jo Bell's blog

"She lives the poetry she cannot write" – Wilde

Bitter and sweet

I’ve told you before: if you’re looking for romance, you’re in the wrong place. Oh, you’re looking for world-weary bitterness? Well, step right in and read today’s offering. Somethingeveryday (where I’m guest writer through February) keeps sending me back to look at ideas I jotted down years ago, but never had the diligence to follow through. This one is from an old notebook. I can’t leave you with this rather bleak outlook, so have a look at John Siddique”s kindly little video poems up on Vimeo – I like this one


And on the third day she walked home,
her feet on coals through Heaton Park,
the trees invisible; and put the key in the lock
as if it were easy and shut the door

and finally dropped to her knees and howled
against the letterbox and beat the walls and retched;
and slept where she fell. And as the fourth day started
she could not forgive it; crawled into the kitchen

and threw up and felt invisible and drank a glass of milk
and on the fifth day she was dragged upstairs
by need, and washed her hair and bathed and wept
and smashed the mirror. On the sixth day

she got dressed; put on soft wool against her skin,
made coffee, noticed it was raining. On the seventh day
she walked outside and shut the door
and started up the car: invincible.



This entry was posted on February 20, 2011 by in Writing exercises.
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