hand me downs
(perhaps a love poem you didn’t expect)
they lay quietly in pockets away from curious eyes.
they harbor patience impatiently. here, hold on.
they worry motionless when my stomach aches.
they whittle worldly uneveness, unmindfully.
they cover the lips of doubt. sometimes lies.
they scatter dirt over mis-spent dimes.
they hold a pen, writing. obedient shelves.
they stir the pot no matter the logic pro or con.
they count edges, yet only appreciate surfaces.
they covet ambergris when not amused.
they welcome an urchin kiss. bend me down.
they brace betwixt stones, yet hold nothing in place.
they tithe to your waiting brown summer slopes.
they sniff like dogs. remember this.
an eve’s wood burnished shadow eye, aroma like rising dough and red fruit given fair consent. here, a table laying down distance, being polite. horse soldier hands the only players on that divisible plain. I would’ve hid. I did. some excuse, a trickle of darting moth-like slight of touch. there was a splash.
you traced where maps don’t go over rough raw edges of fingertips where touch fell shattered, broken threads silent before. you didn’t hesitate. fingers, hands, they received what a mind would not. and even while a stone was still a stone, you weathered me. turning into rain. unseasoned. disheveled. fluid.
nearly did you make a shadow swim.
what meaning when flawed hands surrender fault?
neil reid © september 2012
comments:
Drafty seems become a way of life. Perhaps that’s only natural. And here an odd gathering – basically a list poem to begin, then it had something more a say and suggest (an old memory cloaked, we’ll say here, for poem’s sake). I’m considerably less sure about the second prose-poem part (not the form, but the content) (some things just don’t feel right to say aloud) (not yet?). So be it.
I rather find repeatable intent by the prompt idea, hands as verbs. Lots of territory there to wander within. More later? While obvious, yet I was surprised how much hands do.
Written for the We Write Poems prompt #120, What do hands do?
Describe your hands as verbs!
bearly audible 
You are right. I didn’t expect where the list poem was going to go… but hands evoke memory, and I too found that this prompt took us so many places — that to right just one poem, to stop at a certain point, felt like we had just drawn the tip of the iceberg. Very interesting and evocative poem.
oops – too early – to “write” just one poem. (Or am I enjoying that ironic type-o?)
A unique vision Neil, and yet a universal set of images. Like the list, but love those last two stanzas. They are incredibly shy yet self aware at the same time.
Elizabeth
Neil, this poem is incredible. It travels everywhere. `count edges, but appreciate surfaces’, `whittle worldly unevenness, unmindfully’. Seems you have teased out every possibility, and them all as heartfelt poem.
I had to re-read it after I knew it was about hands. Both readings were different — the first a trippy phrase montage, the second more focused but pregnant where it blurred. Thanx
Tender to heart, the words written by hand. Whether all the dreams were realized or not, it made for a lovely read.
A bit late in looking, but thought I’d try to get a few reads in before tomorrow…
my poem to this prompt is here:
http://julesgemsandstuff.blogspot.com/2012/09/wwp-121-what-my-hands-have-done.html