She dramatized herself
Without thought of the dangers.
But ‘Never pay attention,’ she said,
‘To the opinions of strangers.’
And when I stole from a counter,
‘You wouldn’t accept a present
From a tradesman.’ But I think I might have:
I had the greed of a peasant.
She was proud of her ruthless wit
And the smallest ears in London.
‘Only conceited children are shy.’
I am made by her, and undone.