I won by marriage a woman, a
beauty queen.
I own a fear in her beauty,
which was fire.
I must have a hold on her
from others’ sway.
She must be perpetually kept
in motherhood
With her desire to nurse
rather than glamour,
And to shed flesh and charm
from birth after birth.
Tired of five kids, she
refused to have another.
Unsecured still was I, with
her charm still tormenting.
Helpless, I saw her go to
balls to move with lords.
I live now in exile from her
as well as men
Without any regret that, to
make her barren
I have gone for an intensive
cultivation.
25.05.2007 .
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