Poem XI · Free verse · Date unknown
I Wish, 7
I would not wish that,
with inscrutable composure,
made icy and taut by
my ripened fury and,
all in all, by my assent —
which takes the trouble to embrace
the undeniable —
seated at a table,
with plain, well-aimed words,
a critic or a superior
should take apart a creation of mine.