Hand-I-Capped

Do you have five fingers

without a fist

A hope that lingers

a wanton wish

Do your letters jumble

beneath the words

Does your breath cut off

before it’s heard

Does silence threaten

what can’t begin

With empty horror

begetting sin

Whose grip wraps tightly

o’er digits limp

Your soul indentured

—creation’s gimp

(Dreamsleep: October, 2022)