Alcestis On the Poetry Circuit

The best slave does not need
 to be beaten
 She beats herself
 Not with a leather whip
 or with stick or twig
 Not with a blackjack or a billyclub
 But with the fine whip
 Of her own tongue and the subtle beating
 Of her mind against her mind
 
 For who can hate her half so well
 As she hates herself?
 And who can match the finesse
 Of her self-abuse?
 
 Years of training are required for this
 Twenty years of subtle self-indulgence
 Self-denial 'til the subject
 Thinks herself a queen and yet a beggar
 Both at the same time
 She must doubt herself in everything but love
 She must choose passionately and badly
 She must feel lost as a dog without her master
 She must refer all moral questions to her mirror
 
 She must fall in love with a cossack or a poet
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 She must never go out of the house
 Unless veiled in paint
 She must wear tight shoes
 So she always remembers her bondage
 She must never forget
 She is rooted in the ground
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 Though she is quick to learn
 And admittedly clever
 Her natural doubt of herself
 Should make her so weak
 That she dabbles brilliantly
 in half a dozen talents
 And thus embellishes but does not change our life
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 If she's an artist and comes close to genius
 The very fact of her gift should cause her such pain
 That she will take her own life rather than best us
 And after she dies
 We will cry and make her a saint