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

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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