Complaint - William Carlos Williams

They call me and I go

It is a frozen road

Past midnight, a dust

Of snow caught

In the rigid wheeltracks

The door opens

I smile, enter and

Shake off the cold

Here is a great woman

On her side in the bed

She is sick

Perhaps vomiting

Perhaps laboring

To give birth to

A tenth child.

Joy!

Joy!

Night is a room

Darkened for lovers

Through the jalousies the sun

Has sent one golden needle!

I pick the hair from her eyes

And watch her misery

With compassion