At ten a.m. the young housewife
moves about in negligee behind
the wooden walls of her husband’s house.
I pass solitary in my car.
Then again she comes to the curb
to call the ice-man, fish-man, and stands
shy, uncorseted, tucking in
stray ends of hair, and I compare her
to a fallen leaf.
The noiseless wheels of my car
rush with a crackling sound over
dried leaves as I bow and pass smiling.
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From guest EJ (contact)
This is the only good poem that Williams ever wrote. The one about the wheelbarrow is atrocious. -
It sounds like the narrator (or the writer Williams) is a peeping tom of some kind and/or a stalker. I could be wrong but that's what it sounds like to me. It also sounds like the 'housewife' doesn't have a care in the world and in that guise she's a bit loose when it comes to the everyday actions in which she takes.
It's a good piece, though I do find it to be quite queer.
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quite a while ago nam, has your opinion changed?
shy, uncorseted, tucking in
stray ends of hair, and I compare her
to a fallen leaf.
i like that.
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