May 12, 2017

Bertha Mason by name,

quivering limbs and white cheeks,
is mad.
What sort of being
I was cheated into espousing,
seek sympathy.
I passed on,
ascended the stairs,
proceeded to the third story,
opened by my master key.
In the deep shade
a figure ran backwards and forwards,
whether a BEAST or a human,
it grovelled, seemingly, on all fours.
A quantity of dark,
grizzled hair,
wild as a mane, hid its face.
And with a fierce cry
the clothed hyena rose up.
The lunatic SPRANG
and grappled my throat viciously,
laid her teeth to my cheek,
but I would not strike,
I would only wrestle.
I bound her to a chair.
The operation was performed
amidst the fiercest yells.
That is my wife.
(Chapter 26, pg. 214-215)
*Found poem about Jane Eyre

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