Gloves

Today I found a baby's glove Lying on the drainage board so still Yesterday a leather glove from the slim hand of a woman The next time I saw one it was lying half frozen and twisted on the kerb..and I...Now I have my own private collection All lined in rows when you open up the wardrobe doors Now I have no room for my obsession Lined up and labelled in neat little packets The next time I saw one it stuck inside my head and became all that I could think about I'll think twice before I pick it up this time Since I thought about what it had done and where it had been and who it had belonged to And I'll twice before I pick it up this time I thought about who it might have done and where it had come from and what it might have belonged to The next time I saw one I had that itching sensation but my hands stayed by my sides and I couldn't take it And through wax seals and padlocks... A hand through my ribcage Past the choking I saw palms and fingers grasping shoulders...collarbone...crushing I imagined myself hacking desperately at a sea of appendages, forward and right, freeing myself like a butcher, feeling the mash of bone and sinew running slowly down the front of my body... and I couldn't take it any more, I said, I've got to go, I've got to get out of here, and I ran down the street, I've got to get out of here, I've got to go..