Soliloquy in Blue
Those hands of yours can forge new life
by carving organs from their old constraints
and grafting them in those whose own
have failed. I've seen your hands take up a knife
to unlock bodies' mute complaints,
rewrite their fates. Why then am I, alone,
untouchable by hands that dare so much?
Were I not wearing blue, I'd ask
you, teach me more about how touch commands.
But I'm across the table, such
that what I see of you above your mask
will have to stand in for your hands.