"I couldn't stand my love loving someone
Other than me; I can't unfasten the stays
Of my love, my burning for this anti-sun;
I can't for all my tide's longing...; O, the ways
Of Moonlight — I remember when I let
The lambent seashore sigh of us rise — sing
Your dirge of desire, Weaver; my wet
Body stroked by him, I loved, in the swaying
Concupiscence of rain, as my return; how
Could you know such sweetness? He lay me down and kissed
The slit that rings my thighs — how could you know,
Weaver, hidden by morning, my summoned mist,
His entering — how could you know the first time?...
Well, I'm not some schoolyard whore... he is mine..."