Fingered: an Annunciation poem

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                       Fingered:  an Annunciation poem

The only things that matter in this scene

Are Mary’s hands.  Her head is egg-like to

A laughable degree; the damascene

Embroidery of the robe with gold worked through

It; wings deformed, small as thalidomide

Limbs; perfect space perspective for the room—

All factors fall like ash to nothing, glide

Away from our consideration, zoom

To nothingness beside those noble hands,

Humility in dignity, as true

As gestures on the archest stage, in Japan’s

Nō theatre.  They are the painting’s coup.

..The right hand gestures, “Why for me this part?”

….The left clasps calamity to her heart.