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"His Hands, and a Question" Contest Entry

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  • "His Hands, and a Question" Contest Entry

    His Hands, and a Question
    His hands are motionless on top of the sheet
    Strong hands that haven't lost their tan,
    Hands that should be re-potting plants or
    Hammering nails to fix the shingles on the old barn,
    Anything but this.
    The sleepy hospital room so quiet she almost turns to go
    But she see eyelids flutter, then rise
    Creakily, like a balky curtain at some third-rate Little Theatre
    As if even that small action requires effort.
    Thinking to cheer him, take his mind off the ceiling tiles
    He's now studying so intently
    She asks him about the redbud trees,
    The ones he planted three springs ago, how they're doing.
    He turns his head and makes an effort to focus eyes and mind
    Then, out of nowhere, he asks,
    "Do you think I'll make it till spring?"
    Having no idea, she makes something up,
    Something conjured out of hope
    Fragile as a snowflake landing on an open palm.
    "Of course," she says,
    And if her voice quavers a little despite the bold words
    He pretends not to notice.
    See, they understand each other
    After all.

  • #2
    Touching piece describing the great effort at making conversation in such a situation...Your talent at describing the detail is excellent. I enjoyed this, Eltee.

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