Howard Firkin
The tablet is about the size
         of the hole
a drop of nitric acid leaves
         through your hand.

It passes through revolving doors
         walls of cells
with a gold pass, as if quickgold.
         Doormen bow.

You watch. Your forearm has dissolved.
         Hand blank elbow.
The perfect camouflage of junk:
         lost at last.

A pressure in your eyeballs builds
         pupils bleed
your eyes balloon and burst then run
         thick and warm.

You watch. Your skin is liquid yolk.
         Cells are popped
like tiny yellow grapes, and weep out
         gold, quickgold.