Do you have five fingers
without a fist

A hope that lingers
a wanton wish

Do your letters jumble
beneath the words

Does your breath cut off
before it’s heard

Does silence threaten
what can’t begin

With empty horror
begetting sin

Whose grip wraps tightly
o’er digits limp

Your soul indentured
—creation’s gimp

(Dreamsleep: October, 2022)