Daphne

What tunes on the casual wind
Will these ten shoots of leafy branches play,
When night has invaded every crack and crevice of her body? —
Shredded hair and harrowed fields
That felt the slightest flutter of the air
An invasion.
Now the sun daily rapes her,
Now her lifted hands’ gnarled knuckles
Hold off the oppressive sky,
A foot’s fantastic flower
Resisting rain.
How did he wreak such changes,
His own body frail as a girl’s?
Now hers, hardened to a tree’s repetitive delicacies,
Suffers no human’s,
Reproaches no god’s touch.