"Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn." ~Thomas Gray

"Poetry unites." ~Anon

"Truth is such a rare thing, it is delightful to tell it." ~Emily Dickinson


Written by Howie Good
He lives in Highland, New York, USA
His blog: Apocalypse Mambo

Previously published in everydayweirdness

Right-Hand Man

I’d pick up a spoon
in my left hand,

and they’d take it
and put it in my right.

I was small, very small,
probably no bigger

than a hobo’s bindle.
They’d look down at me

while I slept
and shake their heads.

Where they came from,
liars and arsonists

were left-handed.
I’d pick up a block

in my left hand,
and they’d take it

and put it in my right.
Now sometimes

when I start to reach
for what I want,

I’ll stop suddenly
and wonder

whose hand this is.

Posted with consent from the writer.

5 Comments:

  1. CLAY said...
    "in my left hand,
    and they’d take it

    and put it in my right.
    Now sometimes

    when I start to reach
    for what I want,

    I’ll stop suddenly
    and wonder"--brilliant piece; I like the mechanics of this portion above--truly brilliant. Liars and Arsonists..oh! The flames of the artifice.
    WHY? said...
    What parents do to their children in the name of love!

    So simply written, but the message is powerful.
    K.Lawson Gilbert said...
    perfect in its posing...great lines. unusual subject - all the better to me...
    Anna G Raman said...
    Nice poem about a stigma rarely discussed, rarely questioned or even opposed in some countries...
    joaquin carvel said...
    the best liars are right-handed. that way it's harder to tell.

    i love how this is and reads like ripples across a life - and the way such small things are not small things at all.

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