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Elizabeth Bishop - O breath
Work rating: Low

Beneath that loved   and celebrated breast,
 silent, bored really   blindly veined,
 grieves, maybe   lives and lets
 live, passes   bets,
 something moving   but invisibly,
 and with what clamor   why restrained
 I cannot fathom   even a ripple.
 (See the thin flying   of nine black hairs
 four around one   five the other nipple,
 flying almost intolerably   on your own breath.)
 Equivocal, but what we have in common`s   bound to be there,
 whatever we must own   equivalents for,
 something that maybe I   could bargain with
 and make a separate peace   beneath
 within   if never with.
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