“as easily as an old woman reads a palm” Crossing the Atlantic – Anne Sexton
Journey set upon with an illusion of a boat
By one who could not swim, but read a tale
Of a man who walked on water in Gallilee
And thought she too could not fail
So to walk on the waters of her emotions
But it was not to be, faster than she could think
With a glass of vodka in hand, she took on the waves
And found the only way was down… she did sink.
The old woman of her writings if she were to read
Would she have seen that garage in her palm
Would she have foretold her, or told a fairy tale
Her worries and her agitation to calm?
Each person – each of us has a destiny
Hers charted as if her words were each a medical note
How many were written with watered eyes
Read to hear their sound, each caught in her throat?