Erica Jong Poems

I sit at my desk alone
as I did on many Sunday
afternoons when you came
back to me,
...

When the devil brings him,
like a Christmas puppy,
examine his downy fur & smell
his small paws for the scent
...

This constant ache
is my leg's message to me.
'Hello. Hello. Hello.
You're getting there,' it says,
...

Because I am here
anchoring you
to the passionate darkness,
you gaze out the window
...

I had pegged you as
protégé, adoptee,
someone I could save.
...

You are the first muse who came to stay.
The others began & ended with a wish,
or a glance or a kiss between stanzas;
...

You sleep in the darkness,
you with the back I love
& the gift of sleeping
through my noisy nights of poetry.
...

Not wanting to write
for fear that anything-
the passion for the page,
the love of carbon ribbons & erasers-
...

Most beautiful of poisons,
border-plant,
wearing your small green cowl,
little friar, little murderer,
...

If it is impossible to promise
absolute fidelity,
this is because
we learn so much geography
...