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April is National Poetry Month

I've been getting daily emails for National Poetry Month, and this is one that blew my mind. It's an excerpt from Anne Carson's "The Beauty of the Husband." She describes the book as a sustained emotional narrative and a layered performance in language. The book is subtitled "a fictional essay in 29 tangos." This is tango # XIX.



A Conversation Between Equals
than Which Nothing is More Difficult to Achieve in
This World Habeas Corpus'd as (Keats Says)
We Are Out of All Wonder Curiosity and Fear
-By Anne Carson

Coward.
I know.
Betrayer.
Yes.
Opportunist.
I can see why you would think that.
Slave.
Go on.
Faithless lecherous child.
Okay.
Liar.
What can I say.
Liar.
But.
Liar.
But please.
Destroyer liar sadist fake.
Please.
Please what.
Save me.
Who else do you say that to.
No one.
No one he says.
Have courage.
You fool.
Oh my love.
Stop.
Listen I only wanted one thing to be worthy of you.
Are you mad.
No yes it doesn't matter.
You live a counterfeit life.
Yes yes but for you.
Me.
These are my trophies my campaigns my honors I lay them before you.
The women.
Yes.
The lying.
Yes.
The shame.
No there is no shame.
The shame I feel.
There is no shame except in retreat.
Ah.
And I never retreat.
I guess not.
Be my ally.
What are we talking about now.
If you wish not to go on with this I'll stop.
Don't stop.
I've said everything before.
What's wrong with us.
Fog of war.
Why are we at war.
Because I don't want to give up.
Your dreams are a mess.
They are my masterpiece.
God help us then.
God has no place in war and the folly of it well one has only to persevere in folly and
the world will soon enough call it success.
No it's not going to clear up is it or make sense or come out into the open somewhere
this welter of disorder and pain is our life.
Yes.
Your so-called freedom.
Our so-called love.

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