Magazine | December 31, 2018, Issue

Poetry

(Clodagh Kilcoyne/Reuters)

SONG OF CALIBAN

Though slave to him I plan to kill,
From here on in
I mean to do the things I will.
I mean to do my master still.

I’ll bow and scrape with grace.
I’ll “Master” him
As if I knew my place.
But I will feign and learn what’s human;
Know this thing that is a woman;
Study how to hide my curse,
But call it down with words far worse
Than any I was ever taught,
Till I have all I sought.

I will begin, this day, to be
More powerful than he.
Maybe I’ll know the word that he calls fear,
And pour it like a poison in his ear.
My schooling will begin today,
Before he ends this sickly play
Of love — whatever that may be —
And what he calls forgiveness.
Perhaps, some day beyond tomorrow,
I’ll take up conning sorrow.

Len Krisak is an American poet. He has taught at Brandeis, Northeastern University, and Stonehill College.

In This Issue

Articles

Features

Books, Arts & Manners

Sections

Letters

Letters

Readers weigh in on Allen C. Guelzo’s “The Great War’s Great Price” and Kevin D. Williamson’s “Pillars of Fire.”
The Week

The Week

The worst part about getting coal in your stocking isn’t the indignity; it’s the notice of violation from the EPA.
The Long View

Holiday Revisions

From “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” words and music by Frank Loesser, with revisions and amendments by the women’s-studies department at Bard College...
Poetry

Poetry

“Though slave to him I plan to kill, From here on in I mean to do the things I will...”

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