Spiky Cactus Pepper

Okay, here's the final verse, I said to Pliny. See what you think:

Tu es silencieuse, pourquoi?
J' ecris souvent, enfin, a toi.
Tes poignets, sont-ils devenu
Inutiles, ou d'autre coup?

And the translation is:

You are silent, tell me why?
I often write to you, don't I.
Not discounting other factors
I suspect your wrists are cactus.

I looked at Pliny. He appeared to be choking.

Cactus! he spluttered. Cactus! What is that supposed to mean?

Oh you know, I said. No good, screwed, buggered up. What did you Romans used to say?

It matters little what we used to say, said Pliny. Words like that are not suitable for women's poetry. What will your friend think when she reads it?

She'll think I'm sharp. Her conscience will be pricked. Oh don't look so shocked, I'm not going to send it. There's no point.