Ellen Bass is the author of “The Courage to Heal” which can best be described as the Bible for therapists who are treating female victims of sexual abuse. I recently discovered that she is also an accomplished poet and that her poetry reflects her sensitivity to boundaries that is so very relevant in providing therapy, especially to clients who have been traumatized. Her poem, “The Morning After” is a beautiful poem about sexual desire and how that after its fury is spent, there are different responses. In this poem, one partner wants to further sate her still burning desire and the other is obsessed with the mundane affairs of “the morning after.”

THE MORNING AFTER
by Ellen Bass

You stand at the counter, pouring boiling water
over the French roast, oily perfume rising in smoke.
And when I enter, you don t look up.
You’re hurrying to pack your lunch, snapping
the lids on little plastic boxes while you call your mother
to tell her you’ll take her to the doctor.
1 can’t see a trace of the little slice of heaven
we slipped into last night—a silk kimono
floating satin ponds and copper koi, stars tailing
to the water. Didn’t we shoulder
our way through the cleft in the rock of the everyday
and tear up the grass in the pasture of pleasure?
If the soul isn’t a separate vessel
we carry from form to form
but more like Aristotle’s breath of life—
the work of the body that keeps it whole—
then last night, darling, our souls were busy.
But this morning it’s like you’re wearing a bad wig,
disguised so I won’t recognize you
or maybe so you won’t know yourself
as that animal burned down
to pure desire. I don’t know
how you do it. 1 want to throw myself
onto the kitchen tile and bare my throat.
1 want to slick back my hair
and tap-dance up the wall. 1 want to do it all
all over again—dive back into that brawl,
that raw and radiant free-for-all.
But you are scribbling a shopping list
because the kids are coming for the weekend
and you’re going to make your special crab-cakes
that have ruined me for all other crab-cakes
forever.