88 To Constance I should not let my darkness hunt me with black hounds. You should not put your fingers under cutting knives. I should not lie inside my shadow on the ground. You should not tie yourself in jungles at the night. I should not spill my sky of eyes from whipping clouds. You should not give your breast if teeth would bite your hand. I should not bring a thief through doors of hips and mouth. You should not hunt yourself, when hounds would hunt your back. I should not wind my clock when time is gone in circles. You should not keep your broken dishes on the floor. I should not burn my leaves in ovens of cold autumn. You should not call yourself a victim anymore.


Confined Verse
Collected Poems