Poem Of The Week | Faceless Hands by Darby Hudson

Faceless Hands

By Darby Hudson

Eight years old, and I’m captivated by the
brick-fingered, square hands of a
tradesman (tools that could strangle the
neck of horse)

They flick through a
wad of 50 dollar notes then deftly
double-noose a thick, red elastic
band around the cash-in-hand takings like
a close-up magician with
zero tricks.

He is over to fix the plumbing as usual –
but then

THEN the casual art of misdirection – the pipes of
Billy-Joel shuddered up so loud;

It was Up Town Girl
Which barely suffocates the shouts coming from
my mother’s bedroom.

I never knew his face; just his hands.
And what they could do.

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Photo by Cristian Newman on Unsplash

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