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From And in Here, the Menagerie, Templar Poetry, 2007

Wool and air

Have you ever pulled your hand 
into the wrist of your glove
and pretended the empty glove was your hand?

It stays, a faithful shape of you,
a delicate woollen hand-shaped balloon;
it can fool even those closest to you.

No-one will know till they try to shake you by it,
grab you by it as you fall,
reach out to put their hand on yours.

Try it – it’s a scream – the fingers
crumple on contact just as if they’re broken 
in a million places.

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