Bokelskere.no

So to hear it said

He walked out on the whole crowd

Leaves me flushed and stirred,

Like Then she undid her dress

Or Take that you bastard;

Surely I can, if he did?

The fuck you up, your mom and dad.

They may not mean to, but they do.

They fill you with the faults they had

And add some extra, just for you

And light, unanswerable and tall and wide,

Forbids the scar to heal, and drives

Shame out of hiding. All the unhurried day

Your mind lay open like a drawer of knives.

What calls me is that lifted, rough-tongued bell

(Art, if you like) whose individual sound

Insists I too am individual.