The Enamel Girl

Fearful of beauty, I always went Timidly indifferent: Dainty, hesitant, taking in Just what was tiniest and thin; Careful not to care For burning beauty in blue air; Wanting what my hand could touch– That not too much; Looking not to left nor right On a honey-silent night; Fond of arts and trinkets, if Imperishable and stiff They never played me false, nor fell Into fine dust. They lasted well. They lasted till you came, and then When you went, sufficed again. But for you, they had been quite All I needed for my sight. You faded. I never knew How to unfold as flowers do, Or how to nourish anything To make it grow. I wound a wing With one caress, with one kiss Break most fragile ecstasies.... Now terror touches me when I Dream I am touching a butterfly.