The Applicant
for Ted Hughes
Andrew Demcak

bright eyes and a hole to marry
the warm
hook of her breasts
the way her empty hand
and wrote away from you

paper doll
just another Fulbright Scholar
for the poultice
a ticket to her own

remember you were stark
in your Saville Row suit
stiff and fire-
but naked
wearing your salt stitches

and she lent a wily hand

how scored
her spirit was
like a punch-drunk eyelid
guaranteed to cause you cups of sorrows

think of all the life you had completed
tiny wonder
she was not a bad thing:
sewing socks
and making heady thunder