Star Trek: The Original Sonnets

- XXXII -

Being not free so long as my minding

is bent at a moment by whims

of another's gross desiring,

I cannot trust my very limbs

not to chide me on the hour

nor my lips to buck thy power

as a bile within me rises;

such a hate defies all guises.

I envy not monstrosity.

Desire I not such feebleness.

How cruel I'd turn I dare not guess,

but leave the generosity

of choosing in hands small enough

to make good with such precious stuff.