Hand-I-Capped

Do you have five fingers

without a fist

 

A hope that lingers

a wanton wish

 

Do your letters jumble

beneath the words

 

Does your breath cut off

before it’s heard

 

Does silence threaten

what can’t begin

 

With empty horror

begetting sin

 

Whose grip wraps tightly

o’er digits limp

 

Your soul indentured

—creation’s gimp

 

(Dreamsleep: October, 2022)

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