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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345493" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Interrogation Of The Man Of Many Hearts</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who's she, that one in your arms?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She's the one I carried my bones to<br>and built a house that was just a cot<br>and built a life that was over an hour<br>and built a castle where no one lives<br>and built, in the end, a song<br>to go with the ceremony.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why have you brought her here?<br>Why do you knock on my door<br>with your little stores and songs?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I had joined her the way a man joins<br>a woman and yet there was no place<br>for festivities or formalities<br>and these things matter to a woman<br>and, you see, we live in a cold climate<br>and are not permitted to kiss on the street<br>so I made up a song that wasn't true.<br>I made up a song called Marriage.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You come to me out of wedlock<br>and kick your foot on my stoop<br>and ask me to measure such things?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Never. Never. Not my real wife.<br>She's my real witch, my fork, my mare,<br>my mother of tears, my skirtful of hell,<br>the stamp of my sorrows, the stamp of my bruises<br>and also the children she might bear<br>and also a private place, a body of bones<br>that I would honestly buy, if I could buy,<br>that I would marry, if I could marry.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And should I torment you for that?<br>Each man has a small fate allotted to him<br>and yours is a passionate one.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But I am in torment. We have no place.<br>The cot we share is almost a prison<br>where I can't say buttercup, bobolink,<br>sugarduck, pumpkin, love ribbon, locket,<br>valentine, summergirl, funnygirl and all<br>those nonsense things one says in bed.<br>To say I have bedded with her is not enough.<br>I have not only bedded her down.<br>I have tied her down with a knot.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then why do you stick your fists<br>into your pockets? Why do you shuffle<br>your feet like a schoolboy?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For years I have tied this knot in my dreams.<br>I have walked through a door in my dreams<br>and she was standing there in my mother's apron.<br>Once she crawled through a window that was shaped<br>like a keyhole and she was wearing my daughter's<br>pink corduroys and each time I tied these women<br>in a knot. Once a queen came. I tied her too.<br>But this is something I have actually tied<br>and now I have made her fast.<br>I sang her out. I caught her down.<br>I stamped her out with a song.<br>There was no other apartment for it.<br>There was no other chamber for it.<br>Only the knot. The bedded-down knot.<br>Thus I have laid my hands upon her<br>and have called her eyes and her mouth<br>as mine, as also her tongue.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why do you ask me to make choices?<br>I am not a judge or a psychologist.<br>You own your bedded-down knot.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And yet I have real daytimes and nighttimes<br>with children and balconies and a good wife.<br>Thus I have tied these other knots,<br>yet I would rather not think of them<br>when I speak to you of her. Not now.<br>If she were a room to rent I would pay.<br>If she were a life to save I would save.<br>Maybe I am a man of many hearts.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A man of many hearts?<br>Why then do you tremble at my doorway?<br>A man of many hearts does not need me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I'm caught deep in the dye of her.<br>I have allowed you to catch me red-handed,<br>catch me with my wild oats in a wild clock<br>for my mare, my dove and my own clean body.<br>People might say I have snakes in my boots<br>but I tell you that just once am I in the stirrups,<br>just once, this once, in the cup.<br>The love of the woman is in the song.<br>I called her the woman in red.<br>I called her the woman in pink<br>but she was ten colors<br>and ten women<br>I could hardly name her.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I know who she is.<br>You have named her enough.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Maybe I shouldn't have put it in words.<br>Frankly, I think I'm worse for this kissing,<br>drunk as a piper, kicking the traces<br>and determined to tie her up forever.<br>You see the song is the life,<br>the life I can't live.<br>God, even as he passes,<br>hand down monogamy like slang.<br>I wanted to write her into the law.<br>But, you know, there is no law for this.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Man of many hearts, you are a fool!<br>The clover has grown thorns this year<br>and robbed the cattle of their fruit<br>and the stones of the river<br>have sucked men's eyes dry,<br>season after season,<br>and every bed has been condemned,<br>not by morality or law,<br>but by time.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anne+Sexton">Anne Sexton</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345493" data-title="The Interrogation Of The Man Of Many Hearts de Anne Sexton" data-description="Who's she, that one in your arms?

She's the one I carried my bones to
and built a house that was just a cot
and built a life that was over an hour
and built a castle where no one lives
and built, in the end, a song
to go with the ceremony.

Why h..."></div>
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