Depression is boring, I think and I would do better to make some soup and light up the cave. - Anne Sexton

Give me your skin
as sheer as a cobweb,
let me open it up
and listen in and scoop out the dark.

He puts his bones back on,
Turning the clock back an hour.
She knows flesh, that skin balloon,
the unbound limbs, the boards,
the roof, the removable roof.
She is his selection, part time.
You know the story too! Look,
when it is over he places her,
like a phone, back on the hook.

Not that it was beautiful,
but that, in the end, there was
a certain sense of order there;
something worth learning
in that narrow diary of my mind