Hands
To smooth the hair, to hush the lips
To squeeze the flesh below the hips
To feed the fire in small degrees
To test the strength of no and please
To seize the book, to mark the page
To slam it shut and bar the cage
To spring the bird, to melt the snow
To linger on what too few know
To smudge the ink, to white the lines
To blunt the edge and blur the signs
To skip the stone or fling it wide
To catch what falls or tries to hide
To blind the eyes, to free the will
To pull the trigger or keep still
By Marybeth Rua-Larsen
Marybeth Rua-Larsen's poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Measure, The Raintown Review, The Innisfree Poetry Journal, Tilt-a-Whirl and Two Review, among others. She lives on the South Coast of Massachusetts.