Cassandra

To me, one silly task is like another.
I bare the shambling tricks of lust and pride.   
This flesh will never give a child its mother,—
Song, like a wing, tears through my breast, my side,   
And madness chooses out my voice again,   
Again. I am the chosen no hand saves:   
The shrieking heaven lifted over men,   
Not the dumb earth, wherein they set their graves.

Louise Bogan, “Cassandra” from The Blue Estuaries: Poems 1923-1968. Copyright © 1968 by Louise Bogan. Used by permission of Farrar, Straus & Giroux, LLC, http://us.macmillan.com/fsg. All rights reserved.
Source: The Blue Estuaries: Poems 1923-1968 (Farrar Straus and Giroux, 1968)
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