Thread

They say I have a screw loose somewhere.
I say: 'No, I am durable, precise, and with give;
Doctors have rifled me so I don’t split.'

They say I’ve lost the thread,
It goes in one ear and out the other. 'No,
I keep all my screws safe in a box in my head

Flat head, pan head self-tapping, all
Labelled and sorted into drawers
In a zinc plated box in my head.'

The box in my head I fear they will bury me in.

Neil Richards

If you have any comments on this poem, Neil Richards  would be pleased to hear them.