Portrait of a Woman in Bed

There’s my things
drying in the corner:
that blue skirt
joined to the grey shirt⁠—

I’m sick of trouble!
Lift the covers
if you want me
and you’ll see
the rest of my clothes⁠—
though it would be cold
lying with nothing on!

I won’t work
and I’ve got no cash.
What are you going to do
about it?
—and no jewelry
(the crazy fools)

But I’ve my two eyes
and a smooth face
and here’s this! look!
it’s high!
There’s brains and blood
in there⁠—
my name’s Robitza!
Corsets
can go to the devil⁠—
and drawers along with them!
What do I care!

My two boys?
—they’re keen!
Let the rich lady
care for them⁠—
they’ll beat the school
or
let them go to the gutter⁠—
that ends trouble.

This house is empty
isn’t it?
Then it’s mine
because I need it.

Oh, I won’t starve
while there’s the Bible
to make them feed me.

Try to help me
if you want trouble
or leave me alone⁠—
that ends trouble.

The county physician
is a damned fool
and you
can go to hell!

You could have closed the door
when you came in;
do it when you go out.
I’m tired.