This Hand Has Touched
This golden figurine- oh dear, will she ceaselessly crumble away,
In the night, in the sun, in the rain in the arms of another man?
Her nipples two bared switches,- switches? Hands tremble at their touch.
This hand has touched worms, pillows bound to chest, blood,
In a greedless drowning to death in the blood's mucus,
This hand has touched the shriek of tearless eyes
This hand has touched
A tunnel-like alley- running through it lightning-fast,