gesture IV

These hands are nothing constant, forever

wrapped in moments, as with old news –

paper soaked deep in iodine for

 

they’re sallow in the mornings and

whiten up by noon and

 

I can only read the changes somewhere

between my mound of venus and

 

a small scar from something huge

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About Benjamin Norris

Published writer of short stories, long stories, poems. Well received art critic and cultural commentator for Berlin magazines. Collaborator with operatic societies. Co-writer of fictional historic psycholinguistic journals. Lecturer of architecture and art history at a Budapest University. View all posts by Benjamin Norris

24 responses to “gesture IV

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