WHO'S GOING TO
MEND THESE FENCES
This cloth is full of blood, or this
cloth is bleeding. Has anyone found
the man who left it? Was he the one
with the pulsing heart and those strange,
dark eyes? Was he a pilot-master taking
charge again? Find me him, please. He
bleeds, but now I am the one who is cold,
and it is me that is bleeding. How has this
happened? My spectroscopic being is
blind here to a fault. I've been told
of nothing, yet anything else to
me would be a lie. There is no
more space to make this work.
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