the collector the day you threw a glass jar at someone else i went to find you i told you you could have hurt him i asked you what if that had been me? you told me it would never be me and you asked me are you afraid? i said no not of you never you you take photographs of flowers admire the violets on the ground the shape of a teacup you collect beauty carry it with you i know what it means to collect beauty i used to collect shells at the beach and then arrange them when i got home not by color or shape or size but by which i thought needed my love the most and i have lost all of my shells because they were not mine to begin with i took them from their homes lonely child thief dislocator i wonder if i have been collected the same way i took shells from the beach trapped in an old jewelry box left alone until someone is ready to love me in such an insufficient way foreign way to arrange me instead of letting the sea roll over me
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