Done with Donne
by Mary Langer Thompson

Dear John,
I’m through trying to catch falling stars
and digging up mandrake roots.
I’m done with metaphysics and devils’ hooves.
I’ve yet to hear a mermaid sing
alongside your crystal brook,
and I’m still searching for honest minds to lead.

You never thought a woman could be true
or fair, anyway,
and perhaps even I wasn’t.
Lastly, what’s with that perpetual bell
you claim tolls for each one of us?
I don’t think you’re talkin’ about weddings.

It is finished.
I’m so done with you, Donne.



 

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