Misses Misery

What kind of a life

Turns around no shadow

Makes sacrifice

And stands in the shade

Hiding from itself?

Puts its own unctions

Up on a shelf

What kind of a life

Cries out for itself...

Sees no reflection

In its own dull eyes

Eternity and reincarnation

Pledging allegiance

To non-creation.

Tho' my breasts no longer

Flow with milk and cream

or honey

They ain't dried up

And I don't miss misery

But it damn sho' misses me.