THE MAD GIRL REMEMBERS THE ROOM UNDERGROUND

by Lyn Lifshin

she first began
jotting words on
yellow paper,
black tulips un-
folding. She
pressed her head
against glass in
the damp place
facing trees,
felt part of her
self turn Daphne
tho by morning
she’d be clay for
the poet who
hoarded wine
and ate the
letters of Katherine
Mansfield in
blood leaves as
he dreamt of
eggs Benedict
and the cove
in her legs


*Lyn's website:
http://www.lynlifshin.com/books.htm