(26 March 1942 / New York City)

Beast, Book, Body

I was sick of being a woman,
sick of the pain,
the irrelevant detail of sex,
my own concavity
uselessly hungering
and emptier whenever it was filled,
and filled finally
by its own emptiness,
seeking the garden of solitude
instead of men.

The white bed
in the green garden--
I looked forward
to sleeping alone
the way some long
for a lover.

Even when you arrived,
I tried to beat you
away with my sadness,
my cynical seductions,
and my trick of
turning a slave
into a master.

And all because
you made
my fingertips ache
and my eyes cross
in passion
that did not know its own name.

Bear, beast, lover
of the book of my body,
you turned my pages
and discovered
what was there
to be written
on the other side.

And now
I am blank
for you,
a tabula rasa
ready to be printed
with letters
in an undiscovered language
by the great press
of our love.

User Rating: 3,2 / 5 ( 42 votes ) 3

Comments (3)

ERICA JONG, she wears the surname of her second husband, Allan Jong, a Chinese American psychiatrist, share many similarities to those of the narrator described in Fear of Flying, and Fear of Flying was my first book of her. How I enjoyed that book! Erica Jong was for me The Poetess and writer embodying the woman. Excellent! A Full 10
A thoughtful poem, sick of things that goes on routine only.
seeking the garden of solitude instead of men. The white bed in the green garden .......... when you arrived, I tried to beat you away with my sadness, ............... Bear, beast, lover of the book of my body, you turned my pages and discovered what was there to be written on the other side.