I REMEMBER 
 
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