Tell me, I beg, but as the sin was pleasant
So must confession of the sin be pain....”
“Tis pity she’s a whore”. Rachel told all.
Whore, traitress to the secret rites of love,
Publisher of the not-communicable.
If she refused the vows? If her heart changed?
Rachel and I? This meek ex-novice rifled
Of her love-secrets? medals and images
Sewn in her skirts, Birmingham images
From the totem-factory, niched in her heart?