The shield on my
heart is a cage, is a
vice.
You cannot see me
where alone I sing
softly
as nightmares flickr
in dark cragged corners.
You may speak
to the satellite birds
that flutter
arund my skull.
You may look
into my shuttered eyes.
But my song is silent
and already sung
and my heart is
shrunk and dry
come and kiss my
dusty mouth come
and hold my idle hand
Try and coax me out.
My dusty heart
is cracked in a cage
my idle hands
are a vice for the
heart, my shuttered
eyes are birdpecked
and my
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