thieves: I beseech you.
Tell me your form
so that I may be safe.
I am calling all thieves who have snared my soul
and brought it down to the dirt
and made it ordinary.
All my life I have lived in fear of the ordinary:
you knew this and waited.
Waited for me to open the doors wide, a long walk, an absence of years.
During this time, pilfering small things.
And so many things gone I cannot tell
the extent of my loss: only that I am still losing.
It's running through my fingers towards you.
All the waters trickle down to the floor and move,
as though magnetized, into rivulets,
What am I to make of this?