One's grand flights, one's Sunday baths,
One's tootings at the weddings of the soul
Occur as they occur. So bluish clouds
Occurred above the empty house and the leaves
Of the rhododendrons rattled their gold,
As if someone lived there. Such floods of white
Came bursting from the clouds. So the wind
Threw its contorted strength around the sky.

Could you have said the bluejay suddenly
Would swoop to earth? It is a wheel, the rays
Around the sun. The wheel survives the myths.
The fire eye in the clouds survives the gods.
To think of a dove with an eye of grenadine
And pines that are comets, so it occurs,
And a little island full of geese and stars:
It may be that the ignorant man, alone,
Has any chance to mate his life with life
That is the sensual, pearly spouse, the life
That is fluent in even the wintriest bronze.

I have no pain to speak of.
So I allow myself
Silence.

It has quiet room for
Sympathy.

I know they all talk about me,*
He mutters.
Whenever I'm home sick, they
Say that I'm never at work.
That I'm always late.
That I do a bad job.

I look down into my coffee.
We talk about him, all right.
As soon as he takes a sick day,
We know he'll be back the next.
Pale with lingering fever.
Wet with sweat.

We speak of how he's always
At work. Hardly ever comes in
Less than an hour
Before us others.
How he pours his whole self into
Any job he's given. Always.

He would never choose to
Believe me, so I change the subject.
Each man his own attitude.
Funny how the brain keeps
Blaming the heart for
Its feelings.

It was one of those unfair things
like scabies or head-lice.
Although it can happen to anybody regardless of precautions
by the time you realize it has happened to you
It is too late.
Despite having no reason to be ashamed or embarrassed,
She was
...and felt awkward too.
Similarly, she wanted to hide herself away from the world until she was cured and rid of the irritation.
Being jilted ******.