WITHOUT A MIRROR NOW

Her hair fallen over her eyes, her mouth,

she chews at her hair; her saliva whitens.

A great shadow on the curtain. The water glasses on the floor.

Shout it until the end; turn it about, hide it.

Hide what? Hide yourself where? "Death!"she shouted.

Old age, death!" she shouted.' 'll run away. Hold me back.

A hill strewn with shell fragments. And there,

amid bones, comb, a red piece of string,

to comb yourself without a mirror now, to bind your hair

that it might not fall over your eyes,that it might not hide from you

the white worm

that slimily, serenely, sluggishly crawls up the table.