Red Mornings

I modeled this poem from "Ringing Bells" by Anne Sexton. If you are familiar with it, Sexton's poem was abstract, with no apparent rhythm or rhyming. I tried to differ from that. Enjoy!

Red Mornings

Modeled after "Ringing Bells", by Anne Sexton

Let me tell you the way

She hurts me each day.

With beautiful eyes

Unable to tell the whitest of lies.

It happens each morning, she says "Baby,

Fear not of mourning,

For I love you, now at least till

The red tomorrow.”

She walks away, a pang of sorrow

As she moves down the red carpeted hall,

Into the kitchen, barefoot and all.

This is the way she hurts me,

Each day.

At least enough for me to say

"I love you"

In every red way, every red way

And this is me

Uttering this soliloquy,

Who yearns for her heart aching encounter

Who yearns for her all day.

And this is how she hurts me

Each day.

When I sleep and wake again

I walk away, a pang of disdain

Not before her saying, "Baby,

Fear not of me leaving,

For I love you, now and beyond

The red tomorrow.”

And then on its clear she yearns for me,

She's yearned for me each day.