If I could send him only 
One sleeve with my hand in it, 
Disembodied, unbloody, 
For him to kiss or caress 
As he would or would not, - 
But never the full look of my eyes, 
Nor the whole heart of my thought, 
Nor the soul haunting my body,
Nor my lips, my breasts, my thighs 
That shiver in the wind 
When the wind sighs.


 = David Juda