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Lady Macbeth's Confession

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Never mind thick night! Darkness move quick!
Madness engulf me like Jacob's coat;
colors tighten like sickness 'round me throat.
Wha it is do already can't tek back
but it still got me a wash me hand
til they sour and callus, de visions
plaguing de dark a me mind like locust.

Me conscience no business dem days
when me could grin up and skin teet 1
inna company of great men
who smile up smile up wid me
an looking fava 2  inna secret eyes an backdoor smiles.
I know say woman like me plain wicked an conniving:
stinkin' wid ambition, smilin' close against you skin,
seeking confession wid de devil.

Now so, me lay up inna bed wid death
a-write me love letter. Got me
a crave colors to soothe me spirit;
red never could please me,
purple grind like a grater on me cheek,
orange sting like a ledda on me hot skin,
and white—mek me breast feel weight down
wid milk, got me head swirling like inna hurricane.
I chew down me bitter nails til I taste de poison

1 be insincere; 2 special treatment

Source: Poetry (Poetry)

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This poem originally appeared in the August 2004 issue of Poetry magazine

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Lady Macbeth's Confession

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