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..