mine aren’t fashioned to hold tight
money slips through
_____
a million metaphoric hammers jack my grip
_____
pens resist the starts and stutters of my arcane strokes
_____
these fingers jolt and twitch when I ache for calm
dance staccato when I plead for grace
_____
and yet I love them
_____
these hands of mine
are an evolution of skin and nails
of bone and muscle
of ligaments and tendons
of veins and vessels
of light and hope and pain and consequence
and they are indefatigable
____
these small, inconsequential, garbled claws
these rapturous birds
tethered to earthbound thought
take flight
beneath the harvest moon
giving voice
to
silent turns of phrase
leaping off the page
_____
Copyright © 04/15/2024 by Christy Munson. All rights reserved.
About the Creator
Christy Munson
My words expose what I find real and worth exploring.
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Unofficial Challenge Winners:
Homecoming | Ask Me in December | Story of Humanity | Strangely Art
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