Upon the dwarfs that line your road,
Then with a worn hostility
You tramp along beneath your load.
II
WOMAN
TO hide your isolation, you become
Tame and loquacious, bowing to the men
Who bring you ornaments and poverties.
Your cryptic melancholy dwindles then,
Solved by the distant contrast of your words.
Your loneliness, with an amused relief,