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I was born to be lonely.
I am best so!”
If I admire my arms, my face
my shoulders, flanks, buttocks
against the yellow drawn shades,—
who shall say I am not
the happy genius of my household?
PORTRAIT OF A WOMAN IN BED
There's my things
drying in the corner:
that blue skirt
joined to the grey shirt—
I'm sick of trouble!
Lift the covers
if you want me
and you'll see
the rest of my clothes—
though it would be cold
lying with nothing on!
I won't work
and I ve got no cash.
What are you going to do
about it?
[45]
