#elma mitchell

[hanssloane]

This Poem

This poem is dangerous: it should not be left

Within the reach of the children, or even by adults

Who might swallow it whole, with possibly

Undesirable side-effects. If you come across

An unattended, unident- ifiable poem

In a public place, do not attempt to tackle it

Yourself. Send (preferably in a sealed container)

To the nearest centre of learning, where it will be rendered

Harmless by experts. Even the simplest poem

May destroy your immunity to human emotions.

All poems must carry a government warning. Words

Can seriously affect your heart

by Elma Mitchell

[withnailrules]

This poem is dangerous: it should not be left Within the reach of children, or even of adults Who might swallow it whole, with possibly Undesirable side-effects. If you come across An unattended, unattached poem In a public place, do not attempt to tackle it Yourself. Send it (preferably in a sealed container) To the nearest center of learning, where it will be rendered Harmless, by experts. Even the simplest poem May destroy your immunity to human emotions. All poems must carry a Government warning. Words Can seriously affect your heart.

Elma Mitchell

[virgin-martyr]

Women reminded him of lilies and roses. Me they remind rather of blood and soap,

Elma Mitchell, excerpt from “Thoughts of Ruskin”

[rosecook]

This Poem by Elma Mitchell (1919-2000)

This Poem This Poem This poem is dangerous: It should not be left within the reach of children, or even adults who might swallow it whole, with possibly Undesirable side-effects. If you come across an unattended, unidentified poem In a public place, do not attempt to tackle it Yourself. Send it (preferably in a sealed container) to the nearest centre of learning, where it will be rendered…

[authorkims]

[poem-today]

A poem by Elma Mitchell

Thoughts after Ruskin

Women reminded him of lilies and roses. Me they remind rather of blood and soap, Armed with a warm rag, assaulting noses, Ears, neck, mouth and all the secret places:

Armed with a sharp knife, cutting up liver, Holding hearts to bleed under a running tap, Gutting and stuffing, pickling and preserving, Scalding, blanching, broiling, pulverizing, – All the terrible chemistry of their kitchens.

Their distant husbands lean across mahogany And delicately manipulate the market, While safe at home, the tender and the gentle Are killing tiny mice, dead snap by the neck, Asphyxiating flies, evicting spiders, Scrubbing, scouring aloud, disturbing cupboards, Committing things to dustbins, twisting, wringing, Wrists red and knuckles white and fingers puckered, Pulpy, tepid. Steering screaming cleaners Around the snags of furniture, they straighten And haul out sheets from under the incontinent And heavy old, stoop to importunate young, Tugging, folding, tucking, zipping, buttoning, Spooning in food, encouraging excretion, Mopping up vomit, stabbing cloth with needles, Contorting wool around knitting needles, Creating snug and comfy on their needles.

Their huge hands! their everywhere eyes! their voices Raised to convey across the hullabaloo, Their massive thighs and breasts dispensing comfort, Their bloody passages and hairy crannies, Their wombs that pocket a man upside down!

And when all’s over, off with overalls, Quick consulting clocks, they go upstairs, Sit and sigh a little, brushing hair, And somehow find, in mirrors, colours, odours, Their essences of lilies and of roses.

Elma Mitchell

1919-200

[poem-today]

A poem by Elma Mitchell

This Poem

This poem is dangerous: It should not be left Within the reach of children, or even adults Who might swallow it whole, with possibly Undesirable side-effects. If you comr across An unattended, unidentified poem In a public place, do not attempt to tackle it Yourself. Send it (preferbably, in a sealed container) To the nearest centre of learning, where it will be rendered Harmless, by experts. Even the simplest poem May destroy your immunity to human emotions. All poems must carry a Government warning. Words Can seriously affect your heart.

Elma Mitchell

1919-2000

[ukdamo]

Thoughts after Ruskin

Elma Mitchell - very apt, for Father’s Day.

Women reminded him of lilies and roses. Me they remind rather of blood and soap, Armed with a warm rag, assaulting noses, Ears, neck, mouth and all the secret places:

Armed with a sharp knife, cutting up liver, Holding hearts to bleed under a running tap, Gutting and stuffing, pickling and preserving, Scalding, blanching, broiling, pulverizing, – All the terrible chemistry of their kitchens.

Their distant husbands lean across mahogany And delicately manipulate the market, While safe at home, the tender and the gentle Are killing tiny mice, dead snap by the neck, Asphyxiating flies, evicting spiders, Scrubbing, scouring aloud, disturbing cupboards, Committing things to dustbins, twisting, wringing, Wrists red and knuckles white and fingers puckered, Pulpy, tepid. Steering screaming cleaners Around the snags of furniture, they straighten And haul out sheets from under the incontinent And heavy old, stoop to importunate young, Tugging, folding, tucking, zipping, buttoning, Spooning in food, encouraging excretion, Mopping up vomit, stabbing cloth with needles, Contorting wool around knitting needles, Creating snug and comfy on their needles.

Their huge hands! their everywhere eyes! their voices Raised to convey across the hullabaloo, Their massive thighs and breasts dispensing comfort, Their bloody passages and hairy crannies, Their wombs that pocket a man upside down!

And when all’s over, off with overalls, Quick consulting clocks, they go upstairs, Sit and sigh a little, brushing hair, And somehow find, in mirrors, colours, odours, Their essences of lilies and of roses