Ambiguous
She was ambiguous and imperfect, not
As a nice niece in Nice, or living where
Folk f**k in Norfolk, nor considered hot,
But cold as any frozen fish, aware
Of nothing, with a dead eye, motionless,
Not to be contradicted, full of death,
Lifeless, exhausted, devoid, dull, unless
By some comparison made better breath,
What could improve such unrespected shame,
She could not ask to be excused her loss,
But insufficiency prevailed to blame
By easy use of unexamined dross.
She was despised for lazy discontent,
But none could prove she suffered with intent.
