“And I saw it didn't matter who had loved me or who I loved. I was alone. The black oily asphalt, the slick beauty of the Iranian attendant, the thickening clouds--nothing was mine. And I understood finally, after a semester of philosophy, a thousand books of poetry, after death and childbirth and the startled cries of men who called out my name as they entered me, I finally believed I was alone, felt it in my actual, visceral heart, heard it echo like a thin bell.”
Quote by Dorianne Laux
Book:What we carry: poems
Work
What we carry: poems
This volume of poetry delves into the complexities of human emotions and the burdens we carry, reflecting on the intricate tapestry of life's experiences. more
Author
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