It’s a note
slipped under,
keen edges that cut,
confusion of folds,
don’t forget what I’ve told.
It’s the painting I hang,
queer and curious shapes,
obsequious frame,
the chaos contained.
It’s the pendulum swing
of love you and hate you,
I need you don’t touch me
I’m near you don’t leave me!
It’s the letter I write,
a TOrMeNT in InK,
laid bare in your hands,
shakes
your
heart
to
sinking
sands.
It’s the part I’ve disowned,
just take it and keep it,
or tear up and fling it.
Forget what I’ve told.
