Medusa Witches
“Your moon was
full of women”
—Ted Hughes
“Dreamers”
Birthday Letters
My night-ride moon—
Full of Medusa witches
Dark fairy godmothers—
Making and remaking me
Prouty turned me into—
Another Stella Dallas
Took me under her wing—
Taught me how to ride
Ride the daring broomstick—
High up in the dark sky
Beutscher dismembered—
And resurrected me
Glued me back together—
And got me through Smith
Mary Ellen Chase got me—
Back to New England again
Pulling me away from—
That moody Mytholmroyd man
All my Medusa mothers—
If I’d only listened to them
Negritude nightshade angels—
Knowing what men were like
Daddy was dead but then—
A new Daddy got resurrected
I was a sucker for Nazi thugs—
I had the hots for Panzer pricks
My marriage was a nightmare—
My Fulbright a total failure
Midnight Ariel night journey—
Turning into a Caliban nightmare
Poetry’s blood-jet turning into—
A jizz-jet male Hammer film
The women knew I was doomed—
I’d end up in Sapphic tragedy
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