Lines for the Left Hand
by Jeff Oaks
Doing what, the right hand
doesn’t always seem to know.
Having given up the work
of subtle textures, the snug
handshake, the little ways
dominance betrays its teeth.
Why do we put a ring on it?
For its commitment? Its ability
to stay quiet, to maintain balance?
Its occasional silliness?
It remembers the name before
your name; every so often
you need to see again what a wreck
it was before the right took over.
It watches the margins for crumbs.
It loves the universe you made
on the napkin unconsciously
dabbing the water or the too thick
colors from your delicate brush
while you were trying to get right
some flowers, a thistle,