The bed we loved in was a spinning worldThe poem's title is "Anne Hathaway," and it's by Carol Ann Duffy from her collection The World's Wife.
of forests, castles, torchlight, clifftops, seas
where we would dive for pearls. My lover's words
were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses
on these lips; my body now a softer rhyme
to his, now echo, assonance; his touch
a verb dancing in the centre of a noun.
Some nights, I dreamed he'd written me, the bed
a page beneath his writer's hands. Romance
and drama played by touch, by scent, by taste.
In the other bed, the best, our guests dozed on,
dribbling their prose. My living laughing love --
I hold him in the casket of my widow's head
as he held me upon that next best bed.
It was inspired by Shakespeare's will, where he bequeathed "item I gyve unto my wife my second best bed." That's charming; who got the best one? Was Will stepping out on Anne?
Talk about humiliating her for all time by telling posterity someone else got the really good bed. But then, I doubt Anne would want that one, considering he may have used it with another woman.
3 comments:
Mmm. Hot.
love the poem. thanks for sharing.
Like it says in the poem, the best bed was for the guests. Shakespeare and his wife would have always used the second best, so in fact he left them the marital bed that they'd spent all their time in. Just saying is all.
Love the blog, keep it up!
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