Untitled Poem

There's relics of you in my room,
(And one is a film called Soft Skin)
I see them and hope that real soon
I'll dream you if not let you in -

That crack in the ceiling
That takes me to bed,
That crack that needs fixing,
Crack runs to my head -

But it was the skin of a pig,
The skin of a coconut shard,
Skin curling, skin toughened, skin wig,
The skin of a pig cracked and hard -