How often I have wanted
To be a Prima gone mad
For my breath to be the breath
Sinking and rocking the bosom
Pleading to take an indulgent step—
Half balletic foot—falling stone dead—
Body—collapsible only by fluid delirium
Never was there a woman so pathetic
As a Prima gone mad—her loss circled
In steps and gaping mouths
Silent claps and sentenced gasps—
A broken face—sweat powdered pale
Bunn crimped sprawls; wild hair—
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