Robert Hirschfield: Hands

Their hands were too loud,

or whatever they were,

molding cankers of hair,

going after buttons dangling like time.

One called herself sister,

another sister-in-law.

They wanted her to become

a hammock again.

In the gap between sister-in-law and sister,

she spied the flutter of a city

up from the pit

like Joseph

without his coat of bruises,

packaged and sold by his brothers,
but saved by his mad dreams.


Robert Hirschfield‘s poems have appeared in Salamander, The Moth, Stand, Ink Sweat and Tears, Vallum, Noon and other publications.


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