Body Traitors Poem by Patti Masterman

Ever notice how sometimes
Your hands have their own mind,
At odds with the large mind that runs the body.

How sometimes when you try
To pick up something, but instead
You hurl it like a javelin, cast it onto glass table-tops,
Spike it as though a football.
You did not plan to do this, it was your hand's idea.

Your lips sometimes are traitors too;
Someone you know too well might say, I love you..
But then, your lips can't quite form those words
So they say instead: I like you a lot.