My shoes are unpolished, my words smudged.
I come to you undressed (the lord, he whispers
Smut; that man, he whispers such). I bend
Keeps flying from my mind, it slippers
My thoughts, I submit, but a bird
My feet and sings—barren world,
Domestic, not at all clean, not at all blinking
I have been a little minx in it, not at all
At my lies. First he thought he had a wife, then
If only one of you had said, I hold
(of course) he thought he had a whore. All
I wanted (if I may speak for myself) was: more.
Your craven breaking soul, I see the pieces,
I disobey the death you gave me, love.
I feel them in my hands, idle silver, idle gold...
You see I cannot speak without telling what I am.
If you must be, then be not with me.
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