Author: Marge Piercy

Man stomping over my bed in boots Carrying a large bronze church bell Which you occasionally drop: Gross man with […]

You strop my anger, especially When I find you in restaurant or bar And pay for the same liquid, coming […]

Mine, says the cat, putting out his paw of darkness. My lover, my friend, my slave, my toy, says The […]

A heap of wheat, says the Song of Songs But I’ve never seen wheat in a pile. Apples, potatoes, cabbages, […]

In flat America, in Chicago, Graceland cemetery on the German North Side. Forty feet of Corinthian candle Celebrate Pullman embedded […]

Under a sky the color of pea soup She is looking at her work growing away there Actively, thickly like […]

1. The dark socket of the year The pit, the cave where the sun lies down And threatens never to […]

The construction of a woman: A woman is not made of flesh Of bone and sinew Belly and breasts, elbows […]

We sat across the table. He said, cut off your hands. They are always poking at things. They might touch […]

Girls buck the wind in the grooves toward work In fuzzy coats promised to be warm as fur. The shop […]

This girlchild was born as usual And presented dolls that did pee-pee And miniature GE stoves and irons And wee […]

Purple as tulips in May, mauve Into lush velvet, purple As the stain blackberries leave On the lips, on the […]

She wore little teeth of pearls around her neck. They were grinning politely and evenly at me. Unsuitable they smirked. […]

Talent is what they say You have after the novel Is published and favorably Reviewed. Beforehand what You have is […]

The woman in the ordinary pudgy downcast girl Is crouching with eyes and muscles clenched. Round and pebble smooth she […]