a scold apparently not beholden to trite mothers
& regret-tongued nuns, who teach us never to appear
          as smart as a man can, because a bird in the fist is worth
the whole wedding. Find bliss in spilled milk, they say—
          ignorance is an upper hand. How’s the rest of it?
You catch more men with the honey jar open & a bed
          soaked in vinegar is a woman’s work never done
by a girl well-begun, who’s only half fun. But good
          things come to those who flock together, pluck their own
feathers & stock their pots with birds of bad weather.
          So never pick up stones you can’t throw, never count
your bones in the bathwater & never keep your babies
          in glass houses. If you don’t have anything nice to say,
for God’s sake, don’t lead a gift horse to your mouth.
          Don’t beat a dead bliss. A hitch in time saves tears
down the line. Left idle, one hand just watches the other
          clench & unclench. The devil is in a detailed disguise.