Thursday, April 14, 2022


The hands that survive 
at the ends 
of these arms 

were never 
designed to prepare 
for war—

nor were they made 
to clench 
in censure, or even

to lie open and bare 
in a gesture 
of peace. 

Rather, here are two hands 
that were raised
to turn pages;

to brush back 
and down, with the grain 
of all dog fur;

to depress 
small contingents 
of congenial piano keys. 

These hands were made
to shelter secrets 
neverending—that is,

when they aren't 
employed otherwise,
wiping clean and straightening 

those treasures 
which were made by the 
stubborn hands of others 

and are, therefore, exceptionally 
of preserving.