Sunday, December 6, 2015


In my final semester of college, I took a poetry class with Maya Angelou. She was generous with her time and talent, and she was a joy to be around.

We studied this poem, among many others, and I find myself returning to it these days, nearly 13 years later.

The Friend
Marge Piercy

We sat across the table.
he said, cut off your hands.
they are always poking at things.
they might touch me.
I said yes.

Food grew cold on the table.
he said, burn your body.
it is not clean and smells like sex.
it rubs my mind sore.
I said yes.

I love you, I said.
That’s very nice, he said
I like to be loved,
that makes me happy.
Have you cut off your hands yet?

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