Sunday, November 22, 2015


A Nervous Tick

My hands betray me,
fingers don't bend, curl, squeeze
like they used to do;
each hand, unitary,
serves as once a finger did,
but I still have only two.
Every now and then,
something shoots or stabs,
first finger left or third right;
pain, no gain, but
at least I haven't lost
my punctuation.