Boundless sacks and rotten turning tawny hands
Bound in tourniquets, salvage and straps of soil studded plastic
Sheathed in defence of a sandy bottom
And covered in defiance of an elemental desire
Mildred bubbles with social reference and reverence for steeple of un-timed absence
A lack of function; whimsical in the extreme but tiered and peppered with sweets (a clumsy allusion to domestic terror)
“Ultimately fortune falls through your fingers”
As you gain credence and support in a scandal that has bloated the corridors of…
How shall I say that she left you unfettered though unbalanced and on the whole a far better soul?
But it’s not your repeated atrocity leaving you free to pursue an inventive career in progress and prototype.
No?
Now the lack of a hand, tawny or not will give you problems with slapstick
Offence and an inclination to adventure.