Short Ode to Screwball Women

By Rachel Wetzsteon 1967–2009 Rachel Wetzsteon

On sullen nights like these

when my spirit counts its woes like pearls on a string,

you bring me armfuls of spare pantsuits

and clear-eyed hints about the woman

who might kick up her heels in them, flooding rooms

with cunning, air, an almost gaudy vitality.

Gaudy but sober: when your wayward husband

courted the heiress, you stormed her gates

disguised as a floozy—and asked the butler

to serve you gingerale. It was life

you’d rather be drunk on, roaring life

that told you there is no time for spirits

of dark staircases, only lightning ruses

that not only leave no bruises but give

all parties their wish: rinsed vision and second chances.

Losing a boot heel and giddily claiming

I was born on the side of a hill is easy.

For every such moment there are ten

when my ideal snags midflight, a bag caught in branches.

But a girl can dream, can realize, high

on heroines, that she is mortal

and therefore fearless; that sanity

supplies the ground bass to the wildest singing;

that breezes made visible make the finest winds.

Source: Sakura Park (Persea Books, 2006)

Biography

Born in Manhattan, poet and editor Rachel Wetzsteon received degrees from Yale University, Johns Hopkins University, and Columbia University. She made her home in the Morningside Heights neighborhood of Manhattan, which is the setting for many of her formally assured poems. Influenced by Charles Baudelaire, Soren Kierkegaard, and Philip Larkin, Wetzsteon infused her urban and emotional landscapes with a dry wit. As critic Adam . . .

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