Arms Poem by Jenny Kalahar

These arms hang from my shoulders
too pale
like branches of a strange, white tree
deposited on this gray shore from another planet
to be washed even whiter
by the winds and surf of life

In time, veins will appear like magicked tattoos
and thick calluses at the palms
and arthritis will bloom into fingers
jutting forever in no straight lines

These arms
were never meant for holding children
for petting their hair
holding up their chins for smiles.
But they are yet not empty
yet not too weak to bring forth life
even though it sometimes lives only in the imaginary world

These arms blush when you are near
They take on a soft glow of blood and flesh beneath skin
so that they almost seem hopeful at times
less like alien branches
less like weathered, whitened wood
and more like something a friend or two
would not mind linking through
with a very human arm all their own