Monday, 9 June 2014

Blank










image rezureketed

Blank, love soap,
washes of in stages
The guilt of our shame
nestled in rotting flesh
Fingers hold secrets
Mouth covets chapter
and Verse
I am like iron here
waiting for you to love me
once again
The eyes that fell
Glue eyes
Robot man you were
For the hay in the corner
we miss the screws
which crawl through chink
The tired whistles in the dark
Spit flagging,
as the icicle queen
melts
statues of indecision
I am leaking
Where are my hands

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