O traitor tide that turns the body inside out,
A crimson banner where no flag should fly,
You rise unbidden, a soft and startling doubt
Cast from the quiet citadel nearby.
Once hidden deep in modest architecture,
Content to serve in shadowed, humble grace,
Now thrust into reluctant open lecture—
A scandal blooming in a private place.
O fragile flesh, rebellious and unmoored,
What gravity persuades your sudden fall?
What ancient strain or silent weakness lured
This tender fold beyond its rightful wall?
Yet still, within this indignation lives
A strange reminder, earnest and severe:
The body is no kingdom that forgives
The weight of time, the pressure year by year.
So let no laughter sharpen into scorn,