2.01.2010 It looks like you burnt your hand Those fingers are bent in a broken way sharply into the palm, the thumb out stretching strangely limp. I get maggots in my mind eating at the bandages, spitting up acidic saliva that burns each thread like embers on the skin and I find myself recoiling like a handgun, a spring loaded ignition in a black chrome case. (I hate thinking about it.) Those fingers nub- nod- naked bone carved into finger tips on a stretching hand! Lye scrapes the thinly-skinned place I was told to bare toward a hot door during a fire drill. Lye curdles there and adrenaline cuts my line of sight into a sunsetting horizon where I lay hand-over-hand coddling the lump of scar under my outer palm. The bandaged hand is being held in a bandaged hand and the eyes let the irises show shame
