Hiss

My barrel is scraped
your hissing, choked-up scream
dissonates as sharp fork
tines on spent china
all my ventricles are speared
left dangling
from a metal tree
for cruel breezes
to examine clinically
whispering to the world
their expertise
wheezing sound judgements
which drop like jailers’ keys
on clanging ground.

That's all I have to say.
I am so disappointed.