Inside
the box of bone, the parcel of flesh,
under the helmet of that noble head,
the
figure of a naked woman stands,
small, beautiful, obscenely mutilated. God
knows she has achieved many things:
heart, spine, a brain to cap them,
the
use of words and fire
till now, enshrined in ribs of dragon armour
all her
weapons seem a weary weight,
her wounds not worth protecting. |