Bring me a bed and
I’ll bring you a medal,
Flat and comfortable
To lie upon my back,
Let legs of silver slice
And snarl parabolas,
Gleaming to bodies of gold.
The three-pronged horse
That donates the furniture,
Tempts with ornaments.
The Canadian dream forgotten;
The pure woman of d’Urbervilles
Was promised a final corner.
But who wants victory
When so few desire guilt?
Or will accept it.