183 You tempt me to diminish myself and make you a temple -- Think for weeks what helplessness means, no -- mendicancy, despair On the pilgrimage to your lips. You tame me locked in the cage. I learn from you: I'm ignorant -- reading you as a textbook. You train me to perform on the stage set up by your vision -- With the strict obedience of a puppet live in your hands. You entice me, stricken, to see a concubine as a saint -- And turn this city into your bedroom lit by my nimbus.


Confined Verse
Collected Poems