Someone lives in a cave <br />eating his toes, <br />I know that much. <br />Someone little lives under a bush <br />pressing an empty Coca-Cola can against <br />his starving bloated stomac, <br />I know that much. <br />A monkey had his hands cut off <br />for a medical experiment <br />and his claws wept. <br />I know tht much. <br /> <br />I know that it is all <br />a matter of hands. <br />Out of the mournful sweetness of touching <br />comes love <br />like breakfast. <br />Out of the many houses come the hands <br />before the abandonment of the city, <br />out of hte bars and shops, <br />a thin file of ants. <br /> <br />I've been abandoned out here <br />under the dry stars <br />with no shoes, no belt <br />and I've called Rescue Inc. - <br />that old-fashioned hot line - <br />no voice. <br />Left to my own lips, touch them, <br />my own nostrils, shoulders, breasts, <br />navel, stomach, mound,kneebone, ankle, <br />touch them. <br /> <br />It makes me laugh <br />to see a woman in this condition. <br />It makes me laugh for America and New York city <br />when your hands are cut off <br />and no one answers the phone. <br /> <br /> <br />Anonymous submission.<br /><br />Anne Sexton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-fury-of-abandonment/
