The tombstone told when she died. <br />Her two surnames stopped me still. <br />A virgin married at rest. <br />She married in this pouring place, <br />That I struck one day by luck, <br />Before I heard in my mother's side <br />Or saw in the looking-glass shell <br />The rain through her cold heart speak <br />And the sun killed in her face. <br />More the thick stone cannot tell. <br />Before she lay on a stranger's bed <br />With a hand plunged through her hair, <br />Or that rainy tongue beat back <br />Through the devilish years and innocent deaths <br />To the room of a secret child, <br />Among men later I heard it said <br />She cried her white-dressed limbs were bare <br />And her red lips were kissed black, <br />She wept in her pain and made mouths, <br />Talked and tore though her eyes smiled. <br />I who saw in a hurried film <br />Death and this mad heroine <br />Meet once on a mortal wall <br />Heard her speak through the chipped beak <br />Of the stone bird guarding her: <br />I died before bedtime came <br />But my womb was bellowing <br />And I felt with my bare fall <br />A blazing red harsh head tear up <br />And the dear floods of his hair.<br /><br />Dylan Thomas<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-tombstone-told-when-she-died/
