Mary Stanley . . .

I'm reading lots of poetry again. This by Mary Stanley (1919 - 1980)

and included in her slender volume of poetry - Starveling Year (1951).

The Wife Speaks

Being a woman, I am not more than man nor less but answer imperatives of shape and growth. The bone attests the girl with dolls, grown up to know the moon unwind her tides to chafe the heart. A house designs my day an artifact of care to set the hands of clocks, and hours are round with asking eyes. Night puts an ear on silence where a child may cry. I close my books and know events are people, all roads everywhere walk home women and men, to take history under their roofs. I see Icarus fall out of the sky, beside my door, not beautiful, envy of angels, but feathered for a bloody death.