Whose Hands Are These? by Marilyn Gear Pilling

Poem title: Whose Hands Are These? Poet name: Marilyn Gear Pilling Poem: Whose hands are these? Not mine, not mine My hands are soft, unsullied, fine. Whose hands are these, what are these veins that bump through flesh like worms through soil in rain, these lines of blue that cause distress, that change terrain that once was flat and even when I spread these hands and lie supine to view them through the sunlit vine that twines around our old tree’s spine, I can’t divine why anyone would be unkind enough to claim these hands were mine. My hands are soft, somewhat refined inclined to hold a glass of wine, my nails shine my hands align with what’s benign, are not defined by brownish speckles fit for swine. These fingers marred by witches’ nodes designed to claw an infant from its safe abode, fingers that a witch might use to fry and eat with chicken bones. Whose hands are these? Not mine, not mine not mine. End of poem. Credits and bio: Copyright ©Marilyn Gear Pilling Marilyn Gear Pilling is the author of three collections of fiction and six collections of poetry, the most recent published by Cormorant Books. She has won and been shortlisted for many awards, including Descant’s Best Canadian Poem. Her work has been published in most of Canada’s literary magazines, also in the American periodical Rattle. She is a past president of the Hamilton Poetry Centre.