Quill Tip, Ink Well A peacock rounded the bed: plucked long entrails       from my belly — A child in a yellow coat stood in the doorway to see. The light patter:       its little feet continued inside sleep       and out of this, out of this came words       from me: I never loved you       I said. The stars went on dripping their milk: Copyright © 2006 by Elizabeth Twiddy Poems Home