without slipping on all of the Mosses
that had Grown on the Stones where I'd wandered
not knowing what would Befall Me as Gross
violations took Place again Again
the Tormentors in their Dungeons prodded
me, Groped my Behind, and Called me a Slut
as... (Sappho Sappho, where have you Gone? Come.
Continue as Before.) When I Plunged
I descended into the Mouth of Verse
where I was Asked Sophie's Choice: Which This
or That do you wish to Preserve? By far,
I gave most of my Lyrics as Kindling
to the Flames that spared Cupid his Poems!