Potiphar's Wife

She is loud and defiant
   her feet never stay at home;
now in the street, now in the squares,
   at every corner she lurks.

She comes with much enticing
   her words never faltering;
now in my head, now in my soul,
   in every thought and inkling.

Inside, walls painted white with
   innocence long forgotten;
now in her room, now on her bed,
   continuing tradition.

Kept inside, made a trophy
   another one for her shelf;
now breaking out, now breaking free,
   heading for the familiar.

She was loud and defiant
   my feet should have stayed at home;
but in the street, but in the squares,
   at every corner I look.