I am alive -- I guess --
The Branches on my Hand
Are full of Morning Glory --
And at my finger's end --
The Carmine -- tingles warm --
And if I hold a Glass
Across my Mouth -- it blurs it --
Physician's -- proof of Breath --
I am alive -- because
I am not in a Room --
The Parlor -- Commonly -- it is --
So Visitors may come --
And lean -- and view it sidewise --
And add "How cold -- it grew" --
And "Was it conscious -- when it stepped
In Immortality?"
I am alive -- because
I do not own a House --
Entitled to myself -- precise --
And fitting no one else --
And marked my Girlhood's name --
So Visitors may know
Which Door is mine -- and not
