Repair Shop

Repair shop Worms and dinosaur blood, toil and fuel, Doors I’ll hold for you. Pure, old as moonlight, the marbled Cloister of your pleasance I’ll affirm They will come for your museums, my love. They will come for your big, fine Cadillacs… choke-weed and cottonmouths infesting gardens. So what? A fish bait fate this birth hook? Before thought, beyond need, freed Because of you, because love is thicker. Tired of tending? Offering? Hoping a bite? Nectar, somewhere, prevalent as air? Seen it? Have you? The world, the worm turning? Hungry? Eat.