Hole In The Hedgerow

Left in me like a torn off arm’s tatted sleeve.
Like an old mattress with curves,
Footprint left in the snow come spring,
The ghosts of sand castles after the tide sweeps them away.
Groom me, melt me, and tear me apart.
Take an ax and chop it off,
Replace my heads and my handles.
Make me something new.
But memories hide in the grains of sand,
Glacier melt,
The springs of mattresses,
And ink bleeds deeper than blood