Open Hands

Thasddeus Barger

Chris Klepach

Those open hands, Crafted by a factory for Lego, Room-temp Plastic warmed me so I wished they were large enough to hold mine.

My hands were free. Modifying how they looked While boundless imagination took, Altered how they behaved, just for fun.

Those C-shaped hands Held fake weapons, fighting Off my boredom and light dying. Away from what was uncontrollable.

My young greasy fingers, Sticking to their plastic attachments Yet despite seemingly messy interactions They were held with utmost respect and care.

Their permanent smiles Or whatever expression they gleamed Were a greeting that was very welcoming When I couldn’t welcome myself.

When I couldn’t decide where I lived When I couldn’t know how to give

These thoughts, these feelings