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