If you want a zither, play my heartstrings; if you want a covered carriage crawl inside my ribs. If I were that man’s wife, I’d tell him: Be like the snail and carry it all on your back. Be like the magpie and know how to build your home out of whatever’s around. Be like the dog and become master of whatever yard you find yourself in. I’m not saying go, I’m not saying stay. My knuckles are raw in the wash-water, my hips ache with a thousand unbirthed hopes. Not saying go, not saying stay. It’s easy to be humble when you’re given the choice.