Do you have five fingers
without a fist
A hope that lingers
a wanton wish
Do your letters jumble
beneath the words
Does your breath cut off
before it’s heard
Does silence threaten
what can’t begin
With empty horror
begetting sin
Whose grip wraps tightly
o’er digits limp
Your soul indentured
—creation’s gimp
(Dreamsleep: October, 2022)