They call me and I go. <br />It is a frozen road <br />past midnight, a dust <br />of snow caught <br />in the rigid wheeltracks. <br />The door opens. <br />I smile, enter and <br />shake off the cold. <br />Here is a great woman <br />on her side in the bed. <br />She is sick, <br />perhaps vomiting, <br />perhaps laboring <br />to give birth to <br />a tenth child. Joy! Joy! <br />Night is a room <br />darkened for lovers, <br />through the jalousies the sun <br />has sent one golden needle! <br />I pick the hair from her eyes <br />and watch her misery <br />with compassion.<br /><br />William Carlos Williams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/complaint/
