Hands (Paint)

Fists clenching thunder

Bitten between knuckles of wracked

anger wrists cuffed

drenched with paint cupped

in impaled net of

streaked torrents

worn ungentle downed ragged

the fallen hiss

of ink webbing streams upon aging distraction

cursed the flight grip of seething clouds

ripped unable to staunch the

crack of lightning that burning the soul of fingers'

gauging splinter

pours the flood sharks

to drown every pitted

scrape of every learned fate

that darken every wrinkled

age and falsehood upon which it is staged.

Or like chipped scarred bronze bust

that bleeds when lost and left

in a garage of repo man

unfamiliar with the hands that plunder

in the cruelty of every sculptor

that clings half-glued to the fevered sweat

of every paw print

that jaggers creeping across the splintered linen

is a worthless blade

deepened into a wound craven of pain

discarded orphan guide to the far

reaches greedily

melted down for the currency stain

not the name of its creator

then vaulted

then pawned

for a ransom of knavery

with the silence

of the pen and the

bloated friction careless

with impunity towards the

inhuman calculation

and the frozen screen