i wake up -
my hands are throbbing
the skin is broken:
divets, scratches,
dried blood on brown skin

they are dry as a desert plain
with ancient pathways, crisscrossed

profound claws,
attached to my head,
& my heart

they seize the limestone,
the sand, the water -
they brutalize metal ores

from their toil come
strange new things: human things,
animal things, anthropomorphs,
narratives from empty spaces

new realities in starlight

knuckles, wrists,
torn-away fingernails: they scream,
this morning

so that my dreams may
move shadow
and the sun

in quietude

around the planet

(these blessed hands).