Grim, and surrendered to their purposes,
their tangibilities of pulp or stone,
the houses, chairs and tables rise again—

The gilt girl said, And when we got to bed,he starts in pawing.    And he never stops.And nothing happens.    Are you drunk?    or gay?

Supine in silence, circled by his breath,
he sleeps with her whose unlatched womb
becomes a bolted room—