She had almost seduced him to forsake
Assia, move back with her and the kids
to Devon, like the old days. Hoped to make
their passion return, screwing him amid
creaks of the gray tweed couch. But he left her
in the second-floor flat at 23
Fitzroy Road, the house where Yeats once lived. Where
she set out fresh bread and milk for Frieda
and Nicholas, sealed their closed room with wet
cloths and towels, then shoved her head inside
the gas-flowing oven. Ted would regret
this and more: Assia’s own suicide
after killing their child. Meanwhile, swirls of snow
lashed like ripped pages at Sylvia’s window.
Roger Armbrust
August 13, 2007
