roughgloves.html


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            <h1 class="title">Rough gloves</h1>
            

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            <p><span class="line">I lost my hands &amp; knit replacement ones</span><span class="line">from <a href="poetry-time.html">spiders’ threads</a>, stronger than steel but soft</span><span class="line">as lambs’ wool. Catching as they do on nails</span><span class="line">&amp; your collarbone, you don’t seem to like</span><span class="line">their rough warm presence on your <a href="feedingtheraven.html">cheek or thigh</a>.</span><span class="line">I’ve asked you if you minded, you’ve said no</span><span class="line">(your face a table laid with burnt meat, bread</span><span class="line">so stale it could <a href="weplayedthosegamestoo.html">break a hand</a>). Remember</span><span class="line">your senile mother’s face above that table?</span><span class="line">I’d say she got the meaning of that look.</span><span class="line">You’d rather not be touched by these rough gloves,</span><span class="line">the only way I have to knit a love</span><span class="line">against whatever winters we may enter</span><span class="line">like a silkworm in a spider’s blackened <a href="serengeti.html">maw</a>.</span></p>
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