“those clean hands”

Written for:  The Twiglets #242 - "those clean hands"

I can still
smell the blood
on your cleansed hands.

The need for sanitizer
during this horrific time
has left my hands raw.

preening himself
parrot turns head left, then right
leaves wings spotless

           Her daughter was dating a dream
           -boat with a fine job, held in esteem
               'til his self-centeredness
                caused her loss of interest
    Mother said, so what, 'least his hands are clean.


About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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4 Responses to “those clean hands”

  1. Misky says:

    Your hands and mine, too. Raw and cracked.

    Liked by 1 person

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