——by Elizabeth Jennings
I feel I could be turned to ice
If this goes on,if this goes on.
I feel I could be buried twice
And still the death not yet be done.
I feel I could be turned to fire
If there can be no end to this.
I know within me such desire
No kiss could satisfy, no kiss.
I feel I could be turned to stone,
A solid block not carved at all,
Becausee I feel so much alone.
I could be grave-stone or a wall.
But better to be turned to earth
Where other things at least can grow.
I could be then a part of birth,
Passive,not knowing how to know.