She
She carried three diamonds
cut to terrify the men;
she had nails like blue hammers.
People made fun of her
behind her back,
but she could look at the sun.
Her manners, otherwise, were perfect,
and used to good effect.
When she moved down the bright street.
Who could turn away?
A mere rancour, a marvelous disdain,
flowed in the folds of her dress.
And then she was something different,
something harder than us,
cold and true like a sharp night.
Splendid in the old way,
like a crooked Queen
who had lost her king.