Romance
To clasp you now and feel your head close-pressed,
Scented and warm against my beating breast;
. . .
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Rondeau
Jenny kissed me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in; . . .
The Room
Through that window — all else being extinct
Except itself and me — I saw the struggle
Of darkness against darkness. Within the room . . .
The Rose
a labyrinth,
as if at its center,
god would be there— . . .
Russell Market
What I want most is what I deeply fear:
loss of self; yet here I stand, a “memsahib,”
all decked out in wonder, and still a stranger . . .
