Poem-A-Day: Day 176

Yeoman Hands

sharp pain resonates under the skin
with screwdriver tips growing up and out
turning slowly as the move toward the light
retracting fingers to the palm in a fist
so the screwdriver tips can bond the skin
weighing down the hands like two globs of clay
heavy with metal skeletal barbs protruding
in all directions like the rays of a sun
ready to go full supernova
and spray shards of metal everywhere
and the flesh of what used to be hands