Classic Poem

Here is my foot, so small it cannot walk.
Here is my hand that doesn't have a shadow
Here are my lips that neither kiss nor call.
Here my voice that dreams and has no force.

(Lovely wallflower that my rage makes grow,
nearing you, my hand now gives you shade,
my lips can kiss and startle you,
my voice, caressing you, is strong.)

Here is a face grown pale out of the sun,
a heart that beats without a pulse,
a slack skinless vein, a lifeless life.

(Triumphant image they cannot stop:
your heart, raised high in your hand,
flowers over the wall.)