Staples in the fingers
Press down hard
To bend the bone
The tissue bleeds
Sweet salty taste
Rage to pin down the metal
To make it stick in deep
She’s fat and its ugly
Watch it move beneath her sweater
Sick meat
Why must it be so swollen?
To be blind
To not see her move
Just to hear her
The voice of birds
The voice of song
Hear her speak and know thy wrong
Without the hands to touch her skin
To staple them back
And never begin
Sin sin sin
SIN