Christine winds
the necklace
around her
going red
small finger
the small linked
silver chain
swells the flesh
why do that?
the quack asks
to get me
away from
deeper pain
she utters
the quack scowls
his eyebrows
like dark birds
join in deep
hovering
signs of non
approval
she unwinds
the necklace
the finger
once again
turning white
practising
she whispers
shoving it
deep within
the cleavage
of her plump
bra-less breasts
the quack stares
like some kid
taken in
by an old
conjurer’s
sleight of hand
all gone now
can't see trick
you big prick
she mutters
feeling then
the warm chain
fall between
her closed thighs
sitting there
silver links
shut away
from his eyes.