around the room.
My hand worn with callouses — time
I touch the roughness of the skin …
discoloured from now on.
Awake now —
Wander through clunks and clinks.
Like chains suspended from creaky rafters.
Putting us in jounces too small — contain.
Hung upside down in an ash-pit.
Forklifted to our destination.
Resurfaced only to realize,
the nib of the falcon has sent
you to the boiler to burn on open flames.