All my life I've obeyed you, feelings.
You've been like racing for a train with
nothing,
endless waiting, empty purses.
You've been surgeries where gloves
were cold, and instruments too big.
You've been passionate letters, mail
hidden under sweaters, nights of tears.
You've been button holes, hems, buttons,
collars,
shining shoes, warm voices and touches,
capes, velvet coats, boots,
bags full of shopping, playgrounds.
You've been the shy eyes of boys,
uncertain smiles, bedside blessings.
You've become, after streets, private clinics.
The effort to feed the sick.
You've been blood, to avoid regret.
Sabres unsheathed against a peaceful life.
Faced with compromise, you shouted no.
Faced by the lawyer, you stood up in the
entrance-way.
You've been my daggers, my rosaries, muses.