The Painted Bed

    "Even when I danced erect¹

    by the Nile's garden

    I constructed Necropolis.

    Ten million fellaheen cells

    of my body floated stones

    to establish a white museum."

    Grisly， foul²， and terrific

    is the speech of bones，

    thighs³ and arms slackened

    into desiccated sacs of flesh

    hanging from an armature

    where muscle was， and fat.

    "I lie on the painted bed

    diminishing， concentrated

    on the journey I undertake

    to repose⁴ without pain

    in the palace of darkness，

    my body beside your body."