By the first of August the invisible beetles began to snore
and the grass was as tough as hemp and was no color
no more than the sand was a color
and we had worn our bare feet bare since the twentieth of June
and there were times we forgot to wind up your alarm clock
and some nights we took our gin warm and neat from old jelly glasses
while the sun blew out of sight like a red picture hat
and one day I tied my hair back with a ribbon and you said
that I looked almost like a puritan lady
and what I remember best is that
the door to your room was
the door to mine.
-anne sexton
