I have wept too much --
cancel out my tears.
I can weep no more.
We avoid each touch.
I am spent with all
the emotional fears --
Let the last stone fall.
Slam the wavering door.
When the stone's hard blow
adds the final bruise
to my livid heart,
I will stand, and go
in a strange, wild pride;
for I do not choose
that you see, inside,
how a death can start.
p. 32
