Poetry

Elizabeth Jennings (b.1926)
I Feel 1975
I feel I could be turned to ice
If this goes on, it 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
Ni kiss could satisfy, no kiss.

I feel I could be turned to stone.
A solid block not carved at all.
Because 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.