WINTER COLD I stand on one leg by a frozen pond, praying for my lover to awake, flakes of snow falling on my eyelids, so holy wan, it is, so cold. Now were I laid under churchyard mould where snails cling tight to the broken wall, speedwell, mouse-ear and shepherd’s purse would push on before me to hail my coming, the dandelion lifting between my knees, the moss growing softly upon my thighs, the raven nesting upon my breast and beetles stirring within my womb, while rats run under to comb me clean and bats fly over to frighten the rain.
(1945)