The DMQ Review

Sharon Hudson 2003

Letter From Zelda


My darling Scott, I feel so exploded
I can barely write, like a gourd
not knowing the hand that shakes me,

my mind a million seeds.
But weren't we once grand—a ferris
wheel in Paris, spinning ourselves silly.

I never loved you more than when you bent
over your desk, pen gouging paper,
never hated you more—

your pen always blackening,
always my paper white as dogwood.
And though you cried,

your relief heavied the air when you left me
in this room—where everything is cream-colored
rest—no silver shoes, dance floors, gin, or us.

I've planted a sunflower seed—I give it water
from the pitcher on my bedstand.
One day its yellow head will be as full as mine.

Marjorie Manwaring
Copyright 2003

Marjorie Manwaring is a poet living in Seattle, Washington and recently received an MFA from the Bennington Writing Seminars. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Switched-on Gutenberg, LitRag, The Raven Chronicles, Pontoon, and Body Language: A Head-to-Toe Anthology.

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