This poem was originally published on 14 December 2017.
What do you want from me? It stares back at me. Do you want me To bleed honestly? Because I – Don’t know how to do that. I don’t know how to dig; If I were born into A family of builders Maybe I would Know how To sing While constructing The truth. But I was never Handed down Bricks and wet cement I was given words And full stops And commas A couple line breaks Here. A couple there. What do you want from me? Do you want to know What I want from you? I want this ink to form gold And smiles to hang from commas On either side And people’s whistles To be plugged with full stops. But I can’t tell you that. I hear the glorious Is what it is Only because teeth grind for it. That’s all right. I was never much of a Digger anyway.