As I grow older my hands open more slowly. Maybe they know more? What’s empty turns its face to us, said a good poet, long ago. My left hand agrees, longs to touch her. My right is stoical, leaves fingerprints like tracks of deer in snow.
As I grow older my hands open more slowly. Maybe they know more? What’s empty turns its face to us, said a good poet, long ago. My left hand agrees, longs to touch her. My right is stoical, leaves fingerprints like tracks of deer in snow.