I touch this skin:
My scar-crossed flesh —
Ten fingers, ten toes, ten thousand stitches,
Each trainless track —
Curves over tendon, past bone.

Distinct cadence,
A halting rise/fall:
I leave
Half-foot prints
With my toe walk.

Startle reflex
Unbalances me —
Yanks me
Like a novice puppeteer:
I trip ungracefully over myself.

Right fingers
Wrap over-tight,
Then, misinformed, let go.
Above breaking glass
Knotty fist grips air.

Left hand bounces quarters into tumblers
And hits everytime.
Scarless,
Left hand lifts me, types these words, waves hello.
It dials your number, beckons you close.