I think I could have stopped it,

if I’d been as firm as a nurse

or noticed the neck of the driver

as he cheated the crosstown lights;

or later in the evening,

if I’d held my napkin over my mouth.

I think I could…

if I’d been different, or wise, or calm,

I think I could have charmed the table,

the stained dish or the hand of the dealer.

But it’s done.

It’s all used up.

            -Anne Sexton, “Lament”