A handshake

A bloated bag of bones was placed under the light For me to identify, but mother sea gnaws faiths and faces How could I know if I just stared? A tiny cut below the bowels, a door to various humors I dig my way through, ripping sutured futures When hitting a wall, use teeth and hammers to break through the cage To finally steal the beating fruit of my labour A rotten heart to wear on a sleeve Mine