Imputation

Imputation

by Tim Reed

you cloak with Honor

- my coward-stripes -

(as I ran from the spears)

(as I ran from the tears)

you work your Pity stronger

 - than all my vile fears -

Hands

Hands

by Tim Reed

"The closest thing I ever had to a door were these two hands.

An inglorious fusion of effort and circumstance."

"Gnarled and growing, they took hold of me like some cancerous being."

"These hands."

"These two wretched hands."

"Do you know what it is to fear yourself? To become a victim of your own M.O.?"

"Suddenly you find yourself surrounded by yourself, and at your throat: 

your own two hands."

"A door? Say more an electric chair. A noose. A vial of capital punishment."

"But this is a kangaroo court. The dishonorable judge is presiding."

A jury of pointing fingers. 

A fist around a gavel.

Twisting keys in cell doors. 

"This door has turned into a nightmare."

"These hands have become a liability."

Each joint, muscle, and sinew is a reason not to trust

these hands."

"The closest thing I had to an enemy?"

"These hands."