and other poems
Kathryn Hindenlang







In 2007, I lost my hands, became liquid. I woke up, sometimes didn’t. I did speak clearly, but they said differently. A large, round object (it was a cantaloupe, definitively) flew across the room just before I fell into sleep. I tried to pull the chain I thought was attached to the light. Only being able to drink through a straw (I could not steady a glass). Unable to sign my name. This was not the worst of it, nor lying, convulsing on the ground.


Any fragment of a planarian that regenerates will produce a head at the original front end. Although the cells are completely reorganized, they never lose their polarity.


The loss of my hands was badly timed. I had no other instruments.