Heart In Hands Poem by Douglas Scotney

I'd carried my heart
so long in my hands
that they and my arms
grew as untiring as it.

Because of my bearing,
not much more
could I do with my hands
than bear my heart.

I walked a lot more;
for distraction, I suppose.

People would slip
a flower or two or more
into one or two
of my heart-bearing hands;

or slip a biscuit
directly between my keeth;
and one or two would grin
who knew my name was Teith.