Elaine

your hands would shake

while you talked

as if they didn’t belong

to your body

moving on a will

of their own

you couldn’t get out of

bed for days

wrestling in the dark

avoiding the july sun

but the plants in the

living room were still

green and full

mocking you

in their stillness

the medicines never worked

just leaving you

anxious and bloated

leaving you turning

the pages of the bible

for relief that never came

i would stare

at my own raw hands

at the tearstains

on my shoes

my bloodshot eyes

and unwashed hair

wondering what

help i could possibly

give to you

that i didn’t require

myself

i tossed and turned

in the sheets

i sank and sweltered

in the covers

i breathed too fast

and moved too slow

my fingernails

disappeared again and

i wondered

how long before

my hands started

shaking like that.