Soft Exterior by Polly Abbots
hands meander, invisible trails of
electric skin left in their wake,
flesh bending, compressing at touch,
till hands lift and the connection breaks.
imaginary hands, the grip of words,
grab organs, blood oozing as your lungs are squeezed.
soft exterior, soft interior,
relief flooding as pain is eased.
hands resurface, coated with the remains of entrails,
empty inside and outside; pulped.
my soft clay exterior, soft clay interior,
warmed and ready for you to sculpt.
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