Jeg browsede og jeg fandt. Lo and behold! A shipwreck, an atoll. Enough. Altså Adrienne Richs digt X fra Twenty one Love Poems:
Your dog, tranquil and innocent, dozes through our cries, our murmured dawn conspiracies our telephone calls. She knows—what can she know? If in my human arrogance I claim to read her eyes, I find there only my own animal thoughts: that creatures must find each other for bodily comfort, that voices of the psyche drive through the flesh further than the dense brain could have foretold, that the planetary nights are growing cold for those on the same journey, who want to touch one creature-traveler clear to the end; that without tenderness, we are in hell.
Ved første øjekast virker det måske en smule spirituelt. Men det kan mere end det, kan det ikke? Det minder mig også lidt om Lænken af Hulda Lütken. Overfedt digt. Og værd at huske: uden tendernes har vi hell.