Elegy

Listen to a recording of Elise Partridge reading "Elegy."


Sixty years I've lived, hardly a cross word said!
(The carpenter found, behind their bed,
a crawl-space where black snakes had bred.)

Each of the Ten Commandments, I kept.
(Broom jabbing, she frantically swept
at filth that flowered while she slept.)

No one can ever say I told lies.
(She faded below her cracking disguise,
fixed as a dead-leaf butterfly's.)

I gave my love to each and all.
(Hoarded in a locked closet down the hall
hatreds muffled by a paisley shawl.)

I never let myself complain.
(Gallons of tears, a wet winter's rain,
whirled at the brim of the churning drain.)

I had the life I wanted to have.
(She stepped unborn into her grave.)

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