Half Drunk Muse Poetry


I’m caught deep in the dye of her by Arlene Ang

after Anne Sexton

What separates us is a page.
I turn it,
and read little white pills
between the lines,
her rotund o’s have spaces.
These are the nooses
around my neck.

I am stained
by lipstick a transvestite
threw at me.
My fingers shake against
my mouth. The frozen goods section
will never be the same.
Cigarette burns are forever,
like diamonds.

Go ahead. Rinse that sleeve.
It’s the desire to be clean
that counts. The dead dog
across the street
is her making.
Sometimes her stiletto heels
tap with affection,
sometimes walls close in
like her failing heart.

The sink fills quickly.
Madder appears gaudy
against porcelain. Then
I catch my husband
admiring her poems in bed.
He switches the night lamp off,
turns towards the wall.
My body bloats with shadows,
and it’s one gray pill
after another.

View bio for Arlene Ang Published in Spring 2006

About HDM

Half Drunk Muse was one of the first poetry ezines. It was founded in 1999 and ceased publication in 2006.

Questions/comments? Email samiller@halfdrunkmuse.com.