A Fat Woman in Bond Street

Man died for this,
Christ died that these
Mottled and inward-turning knees
Might swell the web of Milanese.
Your swollen, gargoyle face to make
Satan coiled in an emerald brake,
And tempted Eve; and now his skin
Makes shoes to cram your hoofs within...

What shall I buy?
The world was made
That you might hang your purple skin
With amber and clear jade.
The earth is yours.
Young sperm-whales died
For bones to clamp your putty side;
Beasts of great strength and savage line
Died in their shame to make you fine.

Waddle complacently in the sun...