Hunan Hands

The ghost of an ancient flame 
twists its fingertips
turning books to bread, 
a cutaneous feast for wintertime birds 
who need more than reassuring words
to survive the stark season.

Besides, the passages,
once read, trigger our
virgin nerve endings,
slicing our chili pepper hearts
to shreds.

Truth, 
be it writ in block or bone,
is nothing more than action 
which cannot be undone.

Against all reason,
in burning pain,
we sit on our hands and wait 
for the sacrificial setting sun.

Cover Art: VITA NUOVA by Kasha Welski

Future Islands “The Thief”

I get the feeling this poem isn’t quite done yet, but I had a burning itch to post it. I hope you enjoy it in its raw state. ~K.

8 responses to “Hunan Hands”

A Fantazien Window

I liked this! Well done.

LikeLiked by 1 person

Reply
1. K.F. Hartless
  
  Thank you. I’m so glad you enjoyed it.
  
  LikeLiked by 1 person
  
  Reply
johnlmalone

I don’t quite get it, K —- but I’m alert to the frisson of something strange and urgent being said here —

LikeLiked by 1 person

Reply
1. K.F. Hartless
  
  Hunan hands are super painful. Have you ever experienced them? Ghost peppers and then the burn. 😉
  
  LikeLiked by 1 person
  
  Reply
  1. johnlmalone
    
    never even heard the term, K; I should have looked it up but, silly me, I thought it was a misprint for’ Human Hands’ 😦
    
    LikeLike
Tom

Very powerful images you sprinkle throughout – love the wordplay 🙂

LikeLike

Reply
Shawna

What in the world? That was stunning. Breathtaking. I am in awe. What perfect work. Thank you.

LikeLike

Reply
msjadeli

Very vivid and potent. Love the music and the video also.

LikeLike

Reply