It’s not so much that
the right hand doesn’t know
what the left hand is doing
(although it doesn’t)
as it is that
the right hand doesn’t know
what the right hand is doing,
and the left hand is flailing wildly about,
grasping for anything solid,
even before anything has taken root,
even when the storm threatens
to wash away all that lies in its way.
Still, we keep reaching out.
