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Systematic fingers

I feel home,
fingers in a knotted mess.
In front of my arm is me,
one diagonal across my chest.
Smiles switch to frowns
But it's all contorted.
Systematic fingers,
A few on each hand.
What is it they touch?
In an hour?
In a year?
In a lifetime?
I feel home,
My fingers are back
They will poke, pinch, and scratch.

Losing the feeling in my fingers when the tourniquet was on.

15 Mar 07

(define the words in this poem)
(7 more poems by this author)

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