for Anne Sexton

Like you I've done my time, trapped in a tight cage,
my wild ways snapped off at their green roots. I've paid
my dues to the fire, heard my bones crack under
the cruel stones they stacked on my breast. I smiled
as they spat in my face, laughed as they tore
the skin from my flesh. I've done my stretch.
Now my sweet reign begins.

Though I've broken my bonds, I still burn, spelling
late into the night, twisting syntax to fit
my will, learning the grit and bite of grammar.
I turn each word on a spit until - stones
become notes or tones, the dull weight of my spite
I turn into music. Skin etched in inks,
I am a cauldron fired in a kiln of hate,
I use its heat to sire my children.

© Janet Reinhardt (published Southerly 1999)