quickset.
2006-08-09 9:03 a.m.
these hands have no worth outside of circuits, cannotpush forward, cannot engender comfort
left to their own devices.
they are innocent of intention.
forgive them.
forgive them when the fall to one another, hungry. forgive them when
they fail to give me notice, and i catch them
making rounds across my body, leaving marks and bruises.
forgive them when they do not reach, because they have found order
in other places. unconventional hands
they are rebellious, go against the socially correct, remind me
that i am not the form, not the shape
i am presenting, am instead energy, unrepentent, am force irresolute, make note
that i have no line to guide me, no belief to hold me true.
poor hands, they do their duty, die for it, and what man hates his body (no man), and what man will live in his transgressions?
forgive them.