"Epitaph" by Gwendolyn Bennett

Mea culpa: at around 6:40 I say "5 lines" when I meant to say "5 feet."

Topics discussed in this episode include: 

-My upcoming sojourn to fair Albion 
-The master of Persian poetry gives me a light slap on the wrist 
-The Harlem Renaissance! 
-Form is important, but it should follow function 
-Form as intellectual and creative scaffolding 
-English on the outside, Italian on the inside (A "Rossetti" sonnet?) 
-Syllabic Variation, and its usefulness for beginners 
-"Get off your ath let's do some math!" 
-The maternal onus on womankind 
-Big death = little lives 
-We want the best for our children, even if they're plants 
-The paradox of the suffering corpse 
-The misery at the heart of this poem 

Text of the poem: 

Epitaph 

When I am dead, carve this upon my stone: 
Here lies a woman, fit root for flower and tree, 
Whose living flesh, now mouldering round the bone, 
Wants nothing more than this for immortality, 
That in her heart, where love so long unfruited lay 
A seed for grass or weed shall grow, 
And push to light and air its heedless way; 
That she who lies here dead may know 
Through all the putrid marrow of her bones 
The searing pangs of birth, 
While none may know the pains nor hear the groans 
Of she who lived with barrenness upon the earth.