Lick the potash with contempt
I’m made into~a silent frown of
balled up yarn and wood grain
My cold hands stretch these elastic hours
into days that pass two at a time

I lie around trying to
make sentences and love myself
Contaminated by tinnitus~
as expectant as a dog wearing
un-contained excitement
then let down when the sun
sets without a bone

My heart wound up with
bailing wire that works in vain to
show how much you mean to me,
and aches because of
all the fun we’re missing

Written by Sara Fielder © Oct 2012