Germinating genes

Small fingers made especially small by bitten nails. Sometimes my hands already look old, but today they are brimmed with color. They feel warm as I lay them across the keyboard, hangnails beginning their petal peeling, veins protruding underground pipelines. I have my mother’s hands – not glamorous or manicured, but gardener’s tools. They are hands needing work. They are hands milling softly through hair. They are hands nursing hummingbirds and cradling toads. Arthritically grown in soil, knuckles knobby roots, the arm shoots – a sweat pea cresting a trellis.

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