screaming in silence,
skin flayed from bone
raw meat beneath,
but red-blooded
severed limbs die
with no blood supply
tips of digits turning
ivory and rubbery
vinegar-preserved hands
bleed inside glass
scratching at the orb
round and round
calling for lightning,
thunder,
to free them.
But they are captive
in a bubble of time
a single bubble
that caught them and a fish
in death as they rose,
hands open for freedom
wishing but captive,
hands and a fish.
