
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.