I danced with Mary Wollstonecraft last week Then danced with Mary Shelley late last night I asked them both if they would let me speak I heard them laugh and tell me that they might
I only had to find bright words to say To garner their permission to be heard The Mary of my heart will always stay If I present her with a fitting word
And so we dance with language as our tune We dance as though we are ménage à trois Our voltas always seem to come too soon Or late. They always seem to bear some flaw
But Mary knows that words are only games And that is why she uses both her names.
This entry was posted on Saturday, November 30th, 2024 at 10:20 am and is filed under Sonnets. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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