the blood out of my
fingers, nearly breaking
them whenever you would
shake my hand?
And how you used to
wink at me with both
your eyes, first your
left and then your right,
as though your eyelids
marched in place?
You shook my hand that
way in the hospital,
but you didn't wink,
and you called me by my
brother's name. Preacher-man laid his hands
on you, and I cursed
him under my breath.
I reckon if I see that
preacher,
maybe I'll just wink at
him.
Or
maybe I'll just shake
his hand.
