Word Thingys: Salome Strangelove
Inconsequential
My palms upon the bare stone
All my weight can’t move this wall
And my hands — they seem so small
Were they always so, so small
Was there never any way
Was there never any chance
To keep it all from crumbling
Was the sweet sweet high only the first step of the inevitable fall
Into debris
Or is it all just down to my unreliability
What if I had kept my palms right here
Above your vulnerable places
Would that have made them safe
If I’d stood where I was needed most
If I’d never faltered, left my post
If I’d been stronger, less a ghost
Or if I just had bigger hands
Could I maintain the burdens of this load bearing masonry
Keep it whole
But I have only these small hands