look at the photograph,
a funny little thing.

who cannot type nor spell
effiiently, the words flowing
too fast from fingers.

hold the charcoal tight, add
fears and misgivings, sound the
angry words in stone. it is not meant
personal, we did not find the key.

so we work until tea, spoiling
the pattern with verbs.

the picture is set, sewn, scratched,
poignantly scraped.

we have stiff little fingers.

sbm.