This is the mansion that God willed me
And no other. The ceiling is glass
And the sky is unreadable
And what pass for stars stare blankly
At something just over my shoulder and I
Am standing in the grand hall of mirrors
Like a chess-piece on the tiled floor;
A blind and insignificant player in a game
That the other has already won but I
Am trapped on my square while you
Are making love to another who is
Shivering but not with the cold
And I am laid bare against the world.