I do not care for beautiful women;
I do not care.

Calumnious women, even they
can bore by mid-day, and rich

women have nothing
to offer
but the fashions of passionless art.

Send me, Kuan Yin, instead,
a woman of large foot
with a pannier of mussels,
and a stained chef’s coat.

Send me, Saint Catherine,
a woman who comprehends
who will fill my glass, then bandy
me in bed
like a cork on a black sea wave.