Zelda's biography sent
me seeking more, pages
seared in memory from
TENDER IS THE NIGHT.
I nursed my son to Scott's words,
alone in scant light
while the family slept,
my soft fear of madness quiet
in the shadows and the silence.
Jazz Age excess, calm maternity,
riffs of real life keep rhythm
with a primal beat.
Future and past paced,
inconsolable, through words
and a pale sieving light.
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