#1939 - old hands

1939

6.113

23.iv.25

old hands

 

just in a certain light

 

the forepaws, haunch up

as by nature given

and anciently, before

 

how often up in wonder yet

 

what have they held, these secret hands

how else to throw a stick?

 

breathless to the ink, or keys

 

trigger finger, arrow twang

 

animal yet

a rush to tangle strings

 

I remember old headmaster hands

on manoeuvres across my half desk

 

a cramped hand and the writing run off

 

when they would have had a war

wrinkle telling onto next

 

time in the paws

and golden too

 

held cane by grief

for miscreant necessity

 

the tattered coat upon unless

and now here are mine

I think two of the best

 

a falling of the hands where may

how wealth, light handed

counts to gather always more

 

there is the opposable thumb

the finger click

a fond array of sign

 

then some make prayer

or pilgrim’s blush and touch

 

hold mine

 

you  know you want to

 

what have they done?

what will they next?

 

sociable, these two

to cover a sneeze or a cough

to stuff a ballot box

 

upwardly cupped to catch

call sky

 

the itch and scratch by turns

world bore them along

 

what could they hold up?

sky falling

 

who shook mine first

or made a fist to shake?

 

strange words!

 

firm and clam

limp telling too

each time to surrender

 

bones for an ache just under there

and grabbed a thing with both

 

by these means I touch,

let go

 

old hands

and suddenly mine