a villanelle
chiefly for L. and C.

It's pain, the way her hipbones show through
But is it any wonder her life hurts her?
I can't blame a soul; I would've tied her down too.

In her lineless face I inject what she'd never do.
The thought fills me; I turn from her like a stranger.
It's pain, the way her hipbones show through.

Had I such cruelty--the things I'd put her through!
Had I the meanness of man's desire!
I can't blame a soul; I would've tied her down too.

I am too soft for her, in truth:
No despotic snarl. She loves a captor
And I see pain in the way her hipbones show through.

She'll whip herself up mountains blue.
I question intentions of any man who'd stop her
But I can't blame a soul; I would've tied her down too.

Her eyes can still reassure--they do
But her foetal posture, loveless, betrays her.
It's pain, the way her hipbones show through
But I can't blame a soul; I would've tied her down too.



11.21.99 happy birthday dori