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41 The Eldest Sister to Psyche This palace, those invisible hands That stroke the music from thin air, Call it magic: everywhere The haunted rooms obey commands, And yet it sounds like loneliness. Yes, I’m that ugly sister, true, You’ll say I only envy you. The fact—I know your secret guess— Surrendered blind to his embrace, You dared not look. A human voice, You thought. You never had a choice. Perhaps a monster, face-to-face, With scales and fangs and leathern wings. What of the fetus that you carry? For certain it is human? Very? Doubt burns like hot wax; it stings. Doubt burns. Like hot wax, it stings. For certain, it is human, very. What of the fetus that you carry, With scales and fangs and leathern wings Perhaps? A monster. Face-to-face, You thought you never had a choice, You dared not. Look, a human voice Surrendered blind to his. Embrace The fact. I know your secret. Guess. You’ll say I only envy you. Yes I’m that ugly, Sister True, And yet . . . It sounds like loneliness, The haunted rooms. Obey commands: Call it magic. Everywhere, That stroke, the music. From thin air, This palace, those invisible hands. ...

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