new poem

my hands
my hands are falling apart.
when they get like this,
there’s nothing to be done.
i can’t touch things anymore.
i’ll have to hold the toothbrush with my feet
and cook with my nose.
this will be difficult,
since my cooking’s already not much,
though my english muffin pizzas
are something to be admired.
my dad taught me how to make them.
the way we melt cheese
melts hearts around the world.

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