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
...

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

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

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

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;
...

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
...