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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=389966" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Truce Between the Sexes</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">For a long time unhappy<br>with my man,<br>I blamed men,<br>blamed marriage, blamed<br>the whole bleeding world,<br>Because I could not lie in bed with him<br>without lying to him<br>or else to myself,<br>& lying to myself<br>became increasingly hard<br>as my poems<br>struck rock.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My life & my poems lived apart;<br>I had to marry them,<br>& marrying them<br>meant divorcing him,<br>divorcing the lie.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now I lie in bed<br>with my poems on the sheets<br>& a man I love<br>sleeping or reading<br>at my side.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Because I love him,<br>I do not think of him<br>as 'Men,'<br>but as my friend.<br>Hate generalizes;<br>love is particular.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He is not Men, man, male-<br>all those maddening m's<br>muttering like machine-gun spittle,<br>but only a person like me,<br>dreaming, vulnerable, scared,<br>his dreams<br>opening into rooms<br>where the chairs<br>are wishes you can sit on<br>& the rugs are wonderful<br>with oriental birds.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The first month we lived together<br>I was mad with joy,<br>thinking that a person with a penis<br>could dream, tell jokes, even cry.<br>Now I found it usual,<br>& when other women sputter<br>of their rage,<br>I look at them blankly,<br>half comprehending<br>those poor medieval creatures<br>from a dark, dark age.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I wonder about myself.<br>Was I always so fickle?<br>Must politics always be personal?<br>If I struck oil,<br>would I crusade<br>for depletion allowances?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Erica, Erica,<br>you are hard on yourself.<br>Lie back & enjoy the cease-fire.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Trouble will come again.<br>Sex will grow horns & warts.<br>The white sheets of this bed<br>will be splattered with blood.<br>Just wait.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But I don't believe it.<br>There will be trouble enough,<br>but a different sort.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Erica+Jong">Erica Jong</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=389966" data-title="The Truce Between the Sexes de Erica Jong" data-description="For a long time unhappy
with my man,
I blamed men,
blamed marriage, blamed
the whole bleeding world,
Because I could not lie in bed with him
without lying to him
or else to myself,
& lying to myself
became increasingly hard
as my poems
struck rock..."></div>
</div>
</div>