Better off dead than giving in; not taking what you want.

We will tire each other out, making our homesin one another’s arms.

I stared in the mirror.Love gone badshowed me a Gorgon.I stared at a dragon.Fire spewedfrom the mouth of a mountain.And here you comewith a shield for a heartand a sword for a tongueand your girls, your girls.Wasn’t I beautifulWasn’t I fragrant and young?Look at me now.

For this,let gardens grow, where beelines end,sighing in roses, saffron blooms, buddleia;where bees pray on their knees, sing, praisein pear trees, plum trees; beesare the batteries of orchards, gardens, guard them.