Fletcher McGee describes a relationship that slowly consumed him. The woman took his energy, time, and compassion, leaving him empty while she seemed to thrive. He presents her almost as something he shaped — like clay — through his own obsessive thoughts, carving pain and sorrow into her face. He cannot tell whether the misery in her expression came from her or from him. Their bond became a struggle for control, and he ended up afraid of what he had made of her. Even after she dies, she does not release him; she haunts and hunts him. The mood is claustrophobic, bitter, and ghostly, mixing blame with guilt. The speaker feels both victim and cause, trapped by memory and unable to escape the emotional damage of the relationship.
Fletcher McGee — Summary
She took my strength by minutes, She took my life by hours, She drained me like a fevered moon That saps the spinning world. The days went by like shadows, The minutes wheeled like stars. She took the pity from my heart, And made it into smiles. She was a hunk of sculptor’s clay, My secret thoughts were fingers: They flew behind her pensive brow And lined it deep with pain. They set the lips, and sagged the cheeks, And drooped the eye with sorrow. My soul had entered in the clay, Fighting like seven devils. It was not mine, it was not hers; She held it, but its struggles Modeled a face she hated, And a face I feared to see. I beat the windows, shook the bolts. I hid me in a corner And then she died and haunted me, And hunted me for life.