02 March 2010

Key Worker

Key Worker 3/2

If I say I let you steal my soul - that I opened that wound for you
I picked at my dermis until you could weevil in

That the night you wore my sweater you left it smelling of you for weeks

None of it is cliffs - ocean - rushing waters around buildings
New York doesn't sink because I do - I allowed this leak...

I walk in the sunrise that is sick and late winter and I try - try - to make it spring

March isn't warm enough for sexy shirts but I wear the hello out of a vest

If I acknowledge your in-ness - the odd healing pattern of the scar
and blindly rub salt over the space hoping to bring up an itch

Do you think you could find your way of leaving me alone faster?

My spaces are filled - I have enough hands in shafts of light
waiting for me to pull them to safety - I know - you're building a next

I can feel your pecking - they are shiny red purple things
I'm sure it is all so wonderful...


Your picking mechanism is accidental - I think you broke
without even knowing the vault contained anything of value

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