The Hand That Cuts the Scream
by: Petra Whiteley
The Hand That Cuts the Scream
I.
Detonation in the bulwarks of wave-broken
black cell scar burns. They itch within the milk of spring.
Just a feeling
under the ruined flame, the dazzler
of liquid skin,
the rain scans through crowd of eyes, it spies,
it thrills those prophetic, correct birthing
big machines. No turning back. No sea, no breath.
II.
Flies are [...]
