His gaze traced what was him
himself and his to hold and to offer
all of it called 'a frame'
something not his was clinging to his heart
'I'm here, ' it yelled, 'and I'm a woman'
he looked down his frame
stumbling on an unfamiliar bump on his chest
intrigued he pulled at it
'Help! ! ! ' it yelled. 'Help! ! ! . Don't kill me! '
Nauseated he pulled once more
out it popped like a cork
no more sounds were heard
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.