Jessica
Below is my rough draft of a poem for yesterday’s Mindfulness Month prompt on My Hands. It is as yet untitled, which is okay.
I’ve been a little behind for the past few days, because my work life and social life got the best of me. I found, quite suddenly, that I was six days behind on exercises with very little time to create on the horizon. This is not to say that I haven’t been working creatively: I met with my writer’s group, I’ve posted a habit picture, and I’ve been doing some revision on my chapbook manuscript. But, I haven’t been creating new work nor following these exercises as diligently as I would have liked.
Luckily, I found a little stretch of time this morning. I knew that I had an extra hour before work and I forced myself to get up early and create. On any other day, I might have slept in but today, I dug deep and found a little discipline. It also helps that I am giving myself permission to post rough, untitled drafts, knowing that I can always revisit and revise later.
***
I regret my hands for all the things
they will and will not do: all
the books that I have touched
(and have not read), all the food
I carried home, only to spoil
in the fridge. What is the matter
with these hands who want
and want, but never abstain?
I wonder who has raised them, slapped
their backs when they strayed,
rubbed them together in the cold.
They are out of control. I beg them
to clean their rings, clip
their nails and fold themselves
together quietly. They refuse.
They dig in the dirt, scratch
at my skin. They never stop
for rest. I am stuck with them,
these restless pests
and all they carry for me.
