THE ONE-LEGGED MAN Once... «The Complete Poems»
Contrary_Mary23 марта 2017THE ONE-LEGGED MAN
Once there was blood as in a murder but now there is nothing.
Once there was a shoe, brown cordovan, which I tied and it did me well. Now I have given away my leg to be brought up beside orphans. I have planted my leg beside the drowned mole with his fifth pink hand sewn onto his mouth. I have shipped off my leg so that it may sink slowly like grit into the Atlantic. I have jettisoned my leg so that it may fall out of the sky like immense lumber. I have eaten my leg so that it may be spit out like a fingernail.
Yet all along . . . Yes, all along, I keep thinking that what I need to do is buy my leg back. Surely it is for sale somewhere, poor broken tool, poor ornament. It might be in a store somewhere beside a lady's scarf. I want to write it letters. I want to feed it supper. I want to carve a bowstring out of it. I want to hold it at noon in my bed and stroke it slowly like a perfect woman.
Lady, lady, why have you left me?
I did not mean to frighten her. I wanted only to watch her quietly as she worked.
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