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..