the lid closes    whether or not your face is hammered full of nails
spittle, as much as in a lifetime of humiliation,
long since bleached out this light, easy death

a hand can’t reach its own pain
the darkness of this night    stands altogether outside events
you rent four flimsy walls

listen to the river flowing inside a paper carton
between bones left blank    listen to the storm
wait for the next patient

as another tear flies into your eye
a shrill shout    collides with the shining glass
becomes a cheer    you’re ruthlessly driving the nails in