Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Michio Mado

Fingers

Every time I look at my hands
with my fingers open on my lap
I am moved

Tiny fingers are
pulsating
as if they were petals
of the flowers
that bloomed in me

They look proud
They look happy
snuggling with each other

As if they had never been forced to do
anything mean
anything despicable
by me

FINGERS

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Fingers

Every time I look at my hands
with my fingers open on my lap
I am moved

Tiny fingers are
pulsating
as if they were petals
of the flowers
that bloomed in me

They look proud
They look happy
snuggling with each other

As if they had never been forced to do
anything mean
anything despicable
by me

Fingers

Every time I look at my hands
with my fingers open on my lap
I am moved

Tiny fingers are
pulsating
as if they were petals
of the flowers
that bloomed in me

They look proud
They look happy
snuggling with each other

As if they had never been forced to do
anything mean
anything despicable
by me
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