Dazzling

Of No Matter

I have become very tidy.
These cool nights are not my choice,
where I rock myself to sleep,
pristine, hugging my knees.

I have belted myself.
Unwieldy keys won't turn
in my tight lock. Who was it
who said that human tragedy
lay in the perpetual virginity
of the soul?

I have become impenetrable.
It is a habit, a veiled attempt
at self-determination.
Whatever I am married to,
it is of no matter.