are we all what we are not?
Crushed and broken
Shredded and shrunk
The match box lungs needed fire
The nude and the nail
Knotted in ‘touch-me-touch-me not’
Wanted flesh in place of ink
The jacquard dots on gold
Ready to slip away from the slip cover
Searched shoes to walk on
The lover’s parcel
Wanted to flatten the starlet against the red letter box forever
While they invaded her wardrobe
Were we all what we were not?
