Fantomas

She went never to return

She went and her twisted arm entered

A length of intestine came in through the skylight

She sent a steaming cauldron in which she’d cooked her nails

Her toe whizzed past

Then her button with a piece of thread attached like a tail

Then a whole eyelash

Her short hair bounced into the room, a black rabbit

Her nose hopped erratically, looking for its twin

Greetings from her armpits’ two tiny hedgehogs

Her leg beams from outer space

1972