I was away this weekend, so Sunday and Monday’s poems didn’t go up on time, but they’re both up now. Sunday’s was “Follower” by Seamus Heaney, which I love, and Monday’s was “Grass” by Carl Sandburg, which everybody loves. If you missed Saturday’s poem, it was an old favorite of mine, Sir John Suckling’s “Why so pale and wan fond lover?”

It’s Tuesday, so there’s a new poem up on 5×500. It’s called “Beach Blanket,” and before you ask, yes, it is a true story (last year in Malibu). I was at a different beach yesterday, so it seemed like a fitting choice.

I hope everyone who celebrates it had a wonderful Easter weekend! One person who I’m sure had a terrible weekend is Miss Havisham, the lonely jilted lover from my favorite Charles Dickens novel, Great Expectations, and star of today’s National Poetry Month poem.

May I call you "Carol Ann"?

Who’s your friend, Carol Ann?

Havisham by Carol Ann Duffy

Beloved sweetheart bastard. Not a day since then
I haven’t wished him dead. Prayed for it
so hard I’ve dark green pebbles for eyes,
ropes on the back of my hands I could strangle with.

Spinster. I stink and remember. Whole days
in bed cawing Nooooo at the wall; the dress
yellowing, trembling if I open the wardrobe;
the slewed mirror, full-length, her, myself, who did this

to me? Puce curses that are sounds not words.
Some nights better, the lost body over me,
my fluent tongue in its mouth in its ear
then down till I suddenly bite awake. Love’s

hate behind a white veil; a red balloon bursting
in my face. Bang. I stabbed at a wedding cake.
Give me a male corpse for a long slow honeymoon.
Don’t think it’s only the heart that b-b-b-breaks.


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