A fist hit the mouth: knuckles of gun-metal driven by an electric wrist and shoulder. It was a child's dream of an arm.
The fist hit the mouth over and over, again and again. The mouth bled melted iron, and laughed its laughter of nails rattling.And I saw the more the fist pounded the more the mouth laughed. The fist is pounding and pounding, and the mouth answering.