I’m in class now. I stare down at the bones in my hands. I think forty pounds are now gone. I’ve been running lately. It is solitude. It is nervous. They are so bony. I sit and search, trying to find traces of my parents in them. So far I haven’t found anything. But I will keep searching. Perhaps that is why my mom wanted me to play the violin. So I'd use my hands, so I would think about them. I remember the first time I found out I had them. I was two years old. The second time it happened to me I was walking through a hall at college with my brother. He said to me - “it's the human touch.”
After that I could not stop looking at them! I called my mother crying! Later that night I imagined we spoke on the phone that night and you’d ask me how my heart was doing and I’d say,
“ She’s fine. A little blustery.”
Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/nakedpoetry/support)
