The warrior queen does not like the poem I have said is for Lohr, and in truth she was annoying me in the writing of it. All these poems are preliminary in any case, as a part of this month, and will not be able to be made good until there is more time to consider them. I have an idea in mind, but it will take some time.
But of course it raises the question of the poem that should not be written. If there is such, I have not encountered it. Just now, I see one thing. Tomorrow it will be another.
In case it needs to be said – beloved, beloved wolf, cara mia, of course I love you. You will remember it, I am sure. I admire the ruthlessness, at least, although not the lack of regard for promises made. I have not rescinded my invitation, although of course it cannot be as before. Perhaps it would be the better. Sassy makes it clear there are things she will not give up; there are also things I will never give up again. My summer home, for one.
What an irony it is that I am stable, just now. It will not last; I doubt it will last to Easter. I think it is one thing you wanted of me – of we of Lynn – that we could not provide. Of course it is learning we have taken with you. Another irony. Perhaps this is your instability. Perhaps not.
Of course, you do not answer and that is the answer. And the pain. I still formulate my own.