Hands in Waiting

—Nick Butterfield

Will write to a Lover
From a Lover of letters.

And deep in the temporal
Lobe sounds of ‘scribble
Scribble, scribble.’

Then take the night
Train to Hartford

And when you come around
To the points of the star—

Above the Sella Turcica
The Optic Chiasm

Look look and see.
From 12am to 1 am

Hands are learning
Fingers burning

Sounds of writing

‘Amygdala, Cailigula

Caligula, Amygdala

One thought on “Hands in Waiting

  1. Way to go, Nick!Your poem gave me a lot to think about–which is what I like in a poem.

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