Would you still love me if I were a sphinx?
If I had a tail and wings,
if I came from a beast.
What if I did?
If I were a sphinx
I would slip through your arms,
I’d shed fur in your bed, I’d climb up your leg;
I’d have whiskers and
lick milk from your fingers.
I’d have claws with which to draw
a little bit of blood, enough to write
my name in the sand,
and make me of you.
In the dust I am human.
What would you do if I were a sphinx
and you found the sacrifices of another man?
Or you found me scratching
on the corners of the pyramids?
When you found me in the kitchen
on the throat of a lark,
what would you do?
If I were a Sphinx,
a beast to begin with,
would you still love me? (Not want me, that’s different.)