Why aren't you hiding where you are supposed to?
. . .
I'll rip off my skin to cover your shoulders
And leave me as naked as before I was born
And make the world that surounds you
Leave your four walls alone...
I'll give you my hands to sew to your elbows
To cover the cracks and rebuild the windows
And be a statue of warmth and of silence
Left for your pleasure of constance...
. . .
And I'll hear all of the noise
And I'll drink all of the words
That may someday kill your joys
Or be knocking on your door...
No thighs will give you such a welcome
No legs will hide you just as well
No other arms will ever hold you
With the power of an eggshell...
And I'll be like a little shadow
You may sometimes touch or kiss
And then dissapear forever
And be back if I am missed...
[to Y.]
