So how should I presume?
And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my ways and days?
And how should I presume?
And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare