Portrait
On a stripped hillside I bravely stand,
Suffering sulphuric; and glazing earthwards
All bitterness and black; she painted
My portrait gracefully curl;
And hurt again by a girl's bruising hand,
I beckoned her; and forward she came with easel furled.
We flew magic carpets to faraway Fields,
And there, in my Leper's cave,
I carved for her, a Crested Iguana in stone;
And in my ugly paw, crushed dust to jewel,
Glinting now in Iguana’s meagre brain;
A sapphire indeed, a piping flute held dream!
