let me keep this shell and
line it with mucus
hung over the abalone walls
let me call abalone a house and
let it only count as one thing
count the grit to
keep me company please
allow me company let me have
sand and stone and let it only
count as one thing count a mouth
and fingernails count
days and nights as one thing
let me have a clock so I will know
when it's time let there be enough
space even as the shell snaps shut
like an overloaded purse let me keep
the tools I have saved
needle-nosed pliers, severed
bird wing, cat-gut sutures let them be
tools let tools count as one thing
count a spoon and scale allow me
matches to devour the hardwood floor
let me lie there
allow me antiseptic but blind me
and take away the furniture
let me not wonder let me know
only twelve things the rest
let me wreck myself
