Verity

 

When night wins shade from weary day

and you approach with teeth, with tongue,

I will not wear your negligee.

 

You dazzle with your wild array

of verse contrived to best be sung

when night wins shade from weary day.

 

My honest flesh in nude display,

too smooth to hide your barbs among:

I will not wear your negligee.

 

The dark can’t hide your dank decay --

you’re faded now, no longer young,

when night wins shade from weary day

 

you stumble like a rondelet

with no refrain; you harp unstrung.

I will not wear your negligee

 

nor paint myself your shade of grey

to beg for scraps your mouth has flung.

When night wins shade from weary day,

I will not wear your negligee.