Jun 042015
 
Night, weave me a veil and cover me soft away
From hard eyes' pry-spies;  seamstress, weave me now
Far from stars' prisms a place of hiding night;
From narrow arrow tongues, from angry pins
Of pierced fierce saying, veil me soft away.
Although I should love to shine oiled as the sun
And gamesome come among flocks of crowing cocks
And though my throat shouts like a bird to be heard 
And my enameled feathers preen, bitter light
Illuminates my accusers' sear and scorn.
I am peeled and revealed, weak in my puling bones:
A hooked, cadaverous worm pinned in pain.
To be known, to be heard, shreds the subtle veils;
Stands bold-faced upon the past to catcall now,
Fleshes in brave skin all pins all arrows fletched with light,
Cauterizes all wounds, yet without enduring cure.
Shall I stand gaudy-prowed, upright and pure? 

Night, drop your dark threads;  weave me a soft, safe veil.

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