Source: Bibliotheque Nationale d France
by Ted Hughes,
printed in the New Yorker
published in Birthday Letters
from The Rag Rug Somebody had made one. You admired it. So you began to make your rag rug. You needed to do it. Played on by lightnings You needed an earth. Maybe. Or needed To pull something out of yourself- Some tapeworm of the psyche. I was simply Happy to watch your scissors being fearless ... Whenever you worked at your carpet I felt happy. Then I could read Conrad's novels to you. I could cradle your freed mind in my voice, Chapter by chapter, sentence by sentence, Word by word: "Heart of Darkness," ... I dreamed of our house Before we ever found it. A great snake Lifted its head from a well in the middle of the house Exactly where the well is, beneath its slab, In the middle of the house. A golden serpent, thick as a child's body, Eased from the opened well. And poured out Through the back door, a length that seemed unending- ...
by Ted Hughes,
printed in the New Yorker
published in Birthday Letters
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