I have it from Virginia Woolf
who once spoke to me at a party not of course
about drowning of which she had no idea yet
—have I told you this story before?
I remember the sky behind her was purple she
came towards me saying Why are you alone
in this huge blank garden
like a piece of electricity? Electricity?
Maybe she said cakes and tea true we were
drinking gin
"Autobiography of Red," Anne Carson
[Chicago Avenue at Winchester Street]
