by Alicia Suskin Ostriker

I am not lyric any more

I will not play the harp

for your pleasure

I will not make a joyful

noise to you， neither

will I lament

for I know you drink

lamentation， too，

like wine

so I dully repeat

you hurt me

I hate you

I pull my eyes away from the hills

I will not kill for you

I will never love you again

unless you ask me