Denise Levertov

Denise Levertov [A Longhouse Birdhouse]

from Denise Levertov’s Relearningthe Alphabet:

What Wild Dawns There Were

What wild dawns there were

      in our first years here

when we would run outdoors naked

to pee in the long grass behind the house

             and see over the hills such streamers,

             such banners full of fire and blue (the blue

             that is Lilith to full day’s honest Eve) —

What feathers of gold under the morning star

      we saw from dazed eyes before

stumbling back to bed chilled with dew

to sleep till the sun was high!

Now if we wake early

      we don’t go outdoors — or I don’t —

      and you if you do go

      rarely call me to see the day break.

I watch the dawn through glass: this year

             only cloudless flushes of light, paleness

             slowly turning to rose,

             and fading subdued.

We have not spoken of these tired

risings of the sun.

Mad Song

My madness is dear to me.

I who was almost always the sanest among my friends,

one to whom others came for comfort,

now at my breasts (that look timid and ignorant,

                that don’t look as if milk had flowed from them,

                years gone by)

cherish a viper.

                       Hail, little serpent of useless longing

that may destroy me,

that bites me with such idle

needle teeth.

I who am loved by those who love me

for honesty,

to whom life was an honest breath

                           taken in good faith,

I’ve forgotten how to tell joy from bitterness.

Dear to me, dear to me,

blue poison, green pain in the mind’s veins.

How am I to be cured against my will?