...Loneliness is not to be trusted  
It will insert itself without conscience  
 
I meet mine in the fat poets wife 
His impotence her loss 
Her scorn is of sisterhood  
Mine is of adipose craws 
I am blessed with a man 
Who lets me have secrets 
I keep lonely to myself  
There is a smell from the hearth 
Of poems tarnished by desperation
Yielding to fire ...