Doubting, I wished to throw you off;
place you in a wardrobe
where moths may corrupt.
Doubting, I've sulked,
thinking you had blocked
my natural motions.
Doubting, I've discarded you,
feel shivers from night air;
near nakedness of soul.
Doubting, I walk into the garden,
goose-pimples aplenty,
and, doubtless, ponder
how warm I once was.











21 old applause
