The Glove of bone

The Glove of bone;

The rasp of broken skin on dry

flaking knuckles,

the ache - slow and sure of

arthritic winter's to come,

the tingling fire of freezing f*****g cold

in fingertips / numb to the touch, (alive ? )

the white skin and bone

     ( of saints and angels )

dexterous and damaged

and scalded and scarred

chipped matt black varnish, showing glimpses

of the keratin beneath,

my open palm - a mountain range 

of confusion - disturbing gypsy queens

with the feel and the fear of the snapped/

/ river lines of life ,

split in two by the blood and the

                                       steel 

                                    of a ( lost ), brother

seven internal stiches and a

    gristle lump of remembrance
tactile and rough, echoes

     my calloused heart,               ( echoing )

and the tightening of tendons

    fingers curling in a fire dancer's

                                        boxer's pose, 

   ( those sweet, sweet, lovin' fingers )

 a cramped iron vice  - unable to  -  to  move  -  

  unable  - to  -  unable  -

the crippling of crawling vines

                                     creeps over me

                        creeps over me

one tight muscle spasm at a time,

and while I can still write, while this fucked fist

can still hold a pen

                               I just f*****g might, haha

                                                              ha hands

                                              willing  and able

                                          not culpable

                                  not proven,

                    fist raised towards a thunderous sky, 

Reviews

[Ruth]

Of late I have found my fingers to be in such a state and this piece really spoke to me - not only on that level but as always Gram, your talent of conveying myriad images leaves me awe stricken each time I read you, truly - magnificent piece - stay well :)

[gram linski]

Hey, Ruth, thanks as always for the great review, aye once the hands start going , all hope is lost, haha, the mind will follow soon, hope you are well, take care,

[Ruth]

I am doing good Gram, thank you :) Take care, always welcome for the reviews :)

[jacob erin-cilberto]

the fist of the poet raised in defiance.....the arthritic hands, fingers and mind feel there
is still more to write, and he or she will move mountains to do so.
I love the glove of bone...chilled when no longer is there skin to protect...
in the end we get down to bare bones...and yet the bones in the fingers keep moving over the keys.
tactile memory...tactile movement.
as Dylan wrote..."do not go gentle into that good night"---
one of your best gram...this is true poetry at its finest.
j.

[gram linski]

haha, loved the Dylan quote, j. I would rather go gentle into that good night, carried out kicking and screaming, lol, always appreciate your fine mind and your great reviews,

[John the Baptist]

A lot of grim imagery here. Has the sound of one who has both fought and suffered. But at the end, a fist lifted toward the sky in defiance. Has he triumphed, or has he got more learning to do?

[gram linski]

thanks for your great review, John, aye the eternal question, i would think there is more life learning, to do , lol,