Oh, Zelda

gatsby_final_6_19_15 copy

Los Angeles’s Silver Birch Press just released an anthology dedicated to “The Great Gatsby,” and I am thrilled that my poem “Oh, Zelda” was selected as part of the book. The poem is about F. Scott Fitzgerald’s wife Zelda, who was a tumultuous part of Fitzgerald’s fame, fortune and misfortune.

If anyone is interested in ordering copies of the book, please click here to be directed to Amazon.

Below is my poem:

 

Oh, Zelda

 

Pretty much, you

were a crazy bitch.

 

Incensed by beauty

in others, talent in others.

 

No one else was Zelda.

Zelda painting. Zelda

 

writing. Zelda dancing.

Zelda loving. Zelda

 

interrupting. No one had

your husband. Or your

 

name. A belle,

at times, more often

 

a tease. Bad Zelda, who

silenced entire books.

 

Drunk Zelda, who shut

them down like boys.

 

All the rage, all of it,

yours. Sorry Zelda,

 

making the cottage

beds, blowing softly

 

at the suffering fire.

Sweet Zelda, who says

 

it won’t be so. Again

the happy host. Again

 

the righteous muse, who,

for a second, stood right

 

upon the floor. But,

silly Zelda, you boiled

 

a pot of rings and gold,

and you got taken

 

to the crazy home.

The unwell woman

 

in the attic, with you,

told decades too late.

 

No new love

or worried young girl

 

could save you from

the locked doors above,

 

the savage blaze below.

 

 

After Hemingway’s “A Moveable Feast”

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