gloves

gloves
Today I found a baby's glove
Lying on the drainage board so still
Yesterday a leather glove from the slim hand of a woman
The next time I saw one it was lying half frozen and twisted
on the kerb..and I...Now I have my own private collection
All lined in rows when you open up the wardrobe doors
Now I have no room for my obsession
Lined up and labelled in neat little packets
The next time I saw one it stuck inside my head and became
all that I could think about
I'll think twice before I pick it up this time
Since I thought about what it had done and where it
had been and who it had belonged to
And I'll twice before I pick it up this time
I thought about who it might have done
and where it had come from and
what it might have belonged to

The next time I saw one
I had that itching sensation
but my hands stayed by my sides
and I couldn't take it
And through wax seals and padlocks...
A hand through my ribcage
Past the choking
I saw palms
and fingers grasping
shoulders...collarbone...crushing
I imagined myself hacking
desperately at a sea of appendages,
forward and right,
freeing myself like a butcher,
feeling the mash of bone
and sinew running slowly
down the front of my body...
and I couldn't take
it any more,
I said,
I've got to go,
I've got to get out of here,
and I ran down the street,
I've got to get out of here,
I've got to go..
En 'Gloves' de The Horrors, la soledad y la obsesión se entrelazan a través de la imagen de guantes solitarios que el narrador encuentra en su camino. Desde el guante de bebé en la tabla de drenaje hasta el de cuero de la mano delicada de una mujer, estos objetos perdidos despiertan una fascinación perturbadora en él...