Mirth means

my hands surrender

like the final nocturne

betraying their past

I sense their sanity

and their taut tautologies

 

sometimes I deny them

for they are too eager

and they rebuff me

 

once I held a baby

cooing and lullabying

until it went still

my hands brushed her head

and never knew such

incandescent purity

 

another, hands held me

undergirded and aware

I needed others

 

I send words now

through these hands

they tap for me

bringing but the echo

of a mirrored way

 

now they touch my head

as if to plead for more

they lure my mind

and from the rub

beget inuring

 

are they me

or am I them