A Woman's Fate

Just as a king out on a hunt picks up
a glass to drink from, anyone at all,-
and afterwards he who owns it puts it away
and guards it like some fabled chalice:

so perhaps Fate, thirsty also, at times
raised a women to its lips and drank,
whom then a small life, far too afraid
of breaking her, put away from use

inside the fastidious glass cupboard
in which its most precious things are kept
(or the things that count as precious).

There she stood strange like something loaned
and became merely old and became blind
and was not precious and was never special.

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