I dreamt I lost my right hand,
a mysterious amputation
while sitting in my chair
half asleep and dreaming
and in this dream within a dream
my hand was suddenly not there,
a painless evaporation
of an old friend
leaving my left hand
alone and searching
with blind fingers and nailed tears
for its departed twin.
what is the sound of one hand …?
…a silent scream in sinister solitude,
left behind and grieving
though only a helper before,
a practical auxiliary,
holding while the right sliced,
patient while the right painted,
entangled in pillows
while the right caressed
the ecstasies of night.
dance partner gone
ten now halved
the ship veers to port
how will I now applaud brilliance?
how will I now make art or write?
how will I now be a lover?
fold laundry or reel a fish?
how will I now be symmetrical?
I breathe uselessness
through an empty sleeve.
acrylic painting and poem by clinock.
art rat cafe 