Confessionally, an apology to Ms. Sexton

Dear, Anne, you know,
ever since I read that whole, it

was more than a book, compendium
of yours,

I have been lost
in such a rut

of confessional poem. Mine,
of course,
alas don't confess

anywhere near as many things done.
But in religion at least, at least
in mine, what you haven't done, you can burn
just as much over. So I feel
pretty well safe there.

What's missing? In mine,
I mean. Yours

are great.

But of course, unlike you
I cannot write a poem
while I menstruate.

It's not clear whether this

should be considered
privileged.

I can't very well tell,
can I?