Jean Valentine

To Plath, To Sexton

So what use was poetry To a white empty house? Wolf, swan, hare, In by the fire. And when your tree Crashed through your house, What use then Was all your power? It was

Late

Late have I called & Late my Beloved Was blessing me I was covering My breasts with my arms “Those doves” you said In the sun I took my arms away

Dream Barker

We met for supper in your flat-bottomed boat. I got there first: in a white dress: I remember Wondering if you’d come. Then you shot over the bank, A Virgilian Nigger Jim, and poled

Elegy For Jane Kenyon

Jane is big With death, Don Sad and kind – Jane Though she’s dying Is full of mind We talk about the table The little walnut one How it’s like Emily Dickinson’s But Don