Inside Out

On your denim a tear
over your heart’s stomping ground
These speckles of red :

Your silence inside out

Uncertain stance
and hands dressed in electric blue
Behind you all others - linen or lint? -

waiting to bandage the truth.
Look ahead! On cold marble lies
a singe glove of a nondescript grey :

An open hand is a chance
to patch up an old wound. Dare me
to touch you where spilt red shows through