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Rosemary Sullivan (1947-)

4.


              1She walked into our lives like she invented us.
              2Sniffed us out for the dream she needed.
              3We all needed. What's called love
              4is ravenous
              5trailing its beautiful death.
              6When was it you told me?
              7And I thought:
              8Once I loved. Now, I don't.
              9It seemed simple.
            10Till you stood before the mirror
            11and shaved your head.
            12Those tiny slices in the flesh.
            13So mad I loved you. That
            14you could go so far down
            15till it bled.


Online text copyright © 2004, Ian Lancashire for the Department of English, University of Toronto.
This poem cannot be published anywhere without the written consent of Rosemary Sullivan or Black Moss Press permissions department.
Published by the Web Development Group, Information Technology Services, University of Toronto Libraries.

Original text: The Bone Ladder (Windsor, Ontario: Black Moss Press, 2000): no. 4. PS 8587 .U52 B6 Robarts Library
RPO poem editor: Ian Lancashire
RP edition: 2004
Recent editing: 1:2004/7/15


Other poems by Rosemary Sullivan