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There is a vertigo in it,
Vertigo in my soup,
Primordial and deep - ink-black
And tacked to me in blood - each tack
A line connecting bits of brain -
A training - a pleasure - a pain -
A something-feigned to switch on smiles -
Some guilty Fantastic Fox wile -
Festooned in fire is my tail -
Read that both ways if you so wish -
A swirl outside a head hidden
In skulls beneath skins - and caught
In traps laid before my time - sought
By brain doctors and fiercely fought -
No I do not do what I ought -
I cannot fling myself from forts
So high as this one without sinking
Into the rippled jade brinking
My live coffin holding me down
From where the wings of the doves ripple the air
As though there's energy to spare - and there is there -
And East is East - and the sun will set without the least
Backward glance at my backrunning -
Prometheus was never coming -
Not to this wartorn footrest -
Where the good are good and the bad are blessed
As though I were a girl in a school
Striped all over with rulers for breaking the rules.