Hands Reach Down

A glass counter displaying universes
like simple jewelry. The one eyed cat
jumps gracefully from shelf to shelf,
and is careful not to knock anything over.

A dried out turtle shell is wrapped in
newspaper then given to a girl in a dark
blue sweater to carry out to a woman
on a bicycle.

On her back she could
see a tattoo between the straps of her
tank top, but not enough of it to say
what it was.

Hands reach down from the sky, but can’t
be seen. They stir up the lakes and ponds
into slow whirlpools, to pass the time, and
provide a current for the moon
to be in awe of.

There is only silence between them during
the exchange, and after the shell is passed
their days both end simultaneously.
In their off time they think about beaches,
but mostly they just worry things won’t change.

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