Martins Tomisin writes

MY fIVE-FIVE-FINGERS

I
My five-five-fingers of my hands
Zestfully lived in serenity.
The three thrill fingers of my right hand:
Thumb, index finger and middle finger
Stoutly lived civilly and gleefully
Amongst her BROTHERS:
They rested gleefully upon the placid,
SHARP-SABLE-POINTED-DART.

II
Sharp sable pointed-dart;
Perched in the midst of the three thrill fingers
And laid rest upon the hungry,
Virgin DUSKY-SHEET, which sprawled
Bear flat on the glossy desk.
The glossy desk accompanying the earth
The earth accompanying its depth.

III
The other two fingers of my right hand:
Ring finger and little finger
Calmly leisured, plopped on the hungry, 
Virgin dusky-sheet
And lent ears to the Sharp-sable-pointed dart,
Sharp-sable-pointed-dart,
Muttering vignettes of yesterday
Muttering vignettes of today
Muttering vignettes of tomorrow.
Upon the glossy desk
My five fingers of my left hand too
Laid at rest, and eyeballed the sharp-sable-pointed-dart, 
Muttering deep thoughts.

IV
Look,
All you who waded through lines:
All you who unearth the heart
Of this Earth, hunting for treasures
Pore over my ten fingers.
My ten fingers,
As pure as a full virgin moon.
I have dunked deep my five fingers
Of my right hand with my progenitors
In a bowl of sweet dishes
And nibbled singed YAMS amidst
The thriving vegetables.

V
But my forefinger of my left hand
Has never been raised above
To curse the heavens
Never been raised up to pinpoint
My progenitors' homeland
Never had it tasted any depravity
And never will it be licked
Or bit by the savage butchers of Meat
Who loved to fatten themselves on murder
And gratified their heart with
Juicy cups of blood and gore.

The Bodysnatcher -- Cecily Brown