To The Madwoman in my Yard
Lady: please don't throw rocks at my window
because this is Holy House and God send you
to get all the moneylenders to drive the harlot
from the inner temple. Again. Please don't
creep up behind me when I'm gardening beg me
lend you a knife. A bucket. A rope. Hope. Then
threaten to ignite, set alight and consume me for you are the Daughter-of-a-Eunuch-and-a-Firefly
sent to X-ray and exhume me.
Lady: this is nonsense. here I am trying hard
with my Life. With Society. You enter my yard
dressed like furies or bats. Bring right in to me
all the hell I've been trying to escape from...
...Yes, here is what the difference between us
is about. I wear my madness in. You wear yours out.
More from the poet, herself.