Dark bunchy women pricking intricate laces,
Myopic jewelers’ apprentices,
Arabs who chase the long-legged birds in sandy places:
They are her invisible slaves,
The genii of her costly wishes,
Climbing, descending, running under waves.
They strip earth’s dimmest cell,
They burn and drown and stifle
To build her inconceivable and fragile shell.
The Artist-Artisans