Left the upper hand.

Sometimes I wish I were
left handed
or maybe it is upper handed....
A few days outside of your
graces and I see
the world keep moving
even though I am certain
it is on fire.

That slow burn eases,
at least I hope it will.
Or else I'll have to dig my
teeth out of the ashes
and remember which way
they go in.

To the edge and back, though
I know I didn't even touch it.
A glimpse into the reflections
of that cold unfrozen lake and
I turn to sludge and stone
in one shallow gulp.
I can't even talk about it.
Though not all of me is secret.