On line at the supermarket <br />waiting for the tally, <br />the blue numerals <br />tattooed <br />on the white skins <br />of paper, <br />I read your open book <br />of folly <br />and take heart, <br />poet of my heart. <br /> <br />The poet as a housewife! <br />Keeper of steak & liver, <br />keeper of keys, locks, razors, <br />keeper of blood & apples, <br />of breasts & angels, <br />Jesus & beautiful women, <br />keeper also of women <br />who are not beautiful- <br /> <br />you glide in from Cape Ann <br />on your winged broomstick- <br />the housewife's Pegasus. <br /> <br />You are sweeping the skies clear <br />of celestial rubbish. <br />You are placing a child there, <br />a heart here. . . . <br />You are singing for your supper. <br /> <br />Dearest wordmother & hunger-teacher, <br />full professor of courage, <br />dean of women <br />in my school of books, <br />thank you. <br /> <br />I have checked out <br />pounds of meat & cans of soup. <br />I walk home laden, <br />light with writing you.<br /><br />Erica Jong<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dear-anne-sexton/
