Skyhand Poem by Kevin Eaglesfield
Skyhand
A hand appeared yesterday;
Was just there with a soft,
Sucking, gurgling noise like
Bathwater down a drain.
Hanging in the air like,
Well, like a giant hand.
And dirty.
It's a very dirty hand
And someone's cut it off.
The bones and ragged pallid flesh
Can all be seen from space,
But birds fly through it
And it still rains too much.
Maybe the mad man on the crate is right.
Maybe God's died.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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2/23/2026 10:38:01 PM # 1.0.0
