Like the Clay VII

I-III
IV
V
VI
VII.

The cat's hiss
is that of a short fuse.

We are all ill-
tempered these days.

You arrived
at my doorstep
all messed up,

hands badly bandaged,
a grenade

lodged

in your broken teeth.

After I replaced the pin
with a bent paper clip,
you told me between gasps

(the nerve
of a tooth
exposed)

that it was the only
forbidden fruit
you could find.