#24: I Found It In My Pocket

For Terry

I try to hand it in at the police station
but the lady gives me a sour look
then begins bleeding, heavily,
from the gums.
She grabs at her mouth and shoots me a reproachful look
just as her teeth begin to fall out,
so I cut my losses and go.

At the Salvation Army
the crow-faced man
with spectacles like telescope lenses
at least does me the courtesy of turning it
over and over in his dry palms,
running his thumb across
the incised surface. 'Where did you get this?'
His face tightens strangely.
A hissing sound as it falls from his hand,
the limb atrophying suddenly
like a turnip root.

In the end,
after carrying it around for what seems like an hour,
I toss it into a busker's hat.
He smiles from behind his cello,
and as I walk away,
the street detonates like a circus cannon.