Where I Live in This Honorable House of the Laurel Tree 

Lyric by Anne Sexton
 
 
I live in my wooden legs and O

my green green hands.

Too late

to wish I had not run from you, Apollo,

blood moves still in my bark bound veins.

I, who ran nymph foot to root in flight,

have only this late desire to arm the trees

I lie within. The measure that I have lost

silks my pulse. Each century the trickeries

of need pain me everywhere.

Frost taps my skin and I stay glossed

in honor for you are gone in time. The air

rings for you, for that astonishing rite

of my breathing tent undone within your light.

I only know how this untimely lust has tossed

flesh at the wind forever and moved my fears

toward the intimate Rome of the myth we crossed.

I am a fist of my unease

as I spill toward the stars in the empty years.

I build the air with the crown of honor; it keys

my out of time and luckless appetite.

You gave me honor too soon, Apollo,

There is no one left who understands

how I wait

here in my wooden legs and O

my green green hands.