I have two hands.
The right is dominant almost always.
Occasionally the left is stronger,
And I am usually surprised when this happens.
Like when a friend you’ve known your entire life
Says something you’ve never heard from them before.
I gauge the strength of my hands by the amount of control I have
As I open and close them.
The left moves like water across glass
With hardly any trembling at all
Whereas sometimes the right appears to struggle against an invisible force
Quivering along from clenched to supine
Yet it’s the hand that can draw entire landscapes
It’s the hand that feeds my mouth
But I shan’t dismiss the left so easily
For it determines the notes I play on a guitar
Or the hand that caresses your nude back
The left experiences everything the right does
Just less the frequent toil
The left is the patience of a ballerina
The right can break the fucking door down
Especially when I don’t want it to
The right has much to learn from the left
The left can draw as unsullied as when I was 3 years old
The way the right wishes to sometimes draw
But the right also knows that no one will ever believe
It came from the same person