By Gabrielle Worley
With these hands
I may break bread
and bones
Carve the wise face in marble
and names
into headstones
Lower babies into a mother’s arms
and a mass grave
Build temples
and human cages
Slice apple pies
and appendages
Shoot hoops
and pistols
Braid hair
and electrical wires
Wave flags
and drape them
over coffins
Direct orchestras
and armies
Light candles
and torch homes
Throw snowballs
and grenades
Bury seeds
and landmines
Sign love letters
and security contracts
Release the white dove
into wind
and capture it
Fold fingers into a prayer for God’s justice
to be done here on Earth
and presume to know what that means
