Metal hooks instead of hands

and synthetic arms with no hair or freckles,

and she walks down a busy road and waves to me.

Her wave only extends breast high

and I feel guilty for thinking of a Hitler salute.


Waving back I wish I knew her whole story.


I wondered when the last time nerve endings

stretched all the way to the edge of the peninsulas.

I thought of hugs and handshakes and shampoo.

I thought of jar caps and bra straps.

I thought of pointing and thumbs up.


And then I wondered(not wishing this on her)…

What if blindness came?

How would she know a face?

Would she rub her cheeks against mine?

Would she read my eyes and lips and nose

with her toes?


I look at my hands, their knuckles and nails,

their veins and follicles and am grateful

that I can feel the pony tail of my five-year old.

I thank God for the miracle of sensory extensions cupping

my wife’s face and feeling the warmth of tears

moist in my palms.


Then I think of the lady with no lifelines

holding out love with metal appendages…

I behold her and thank God and her

for the pondering of mysteries.

9 thoughts on “Extensions

  1. ugh jerry – this hit me hard (the hitler salute as well…) you’ve written in such a warm-hearted way about her..i like that you let us see her with your eyes

  2. I am the son of the woman about whom you write. She just called me at work to share this with me. We are both so honored and impressed by your poem. I have to get the tears out of my eyes so I can go back to work. Thank you so much for this! ~Aaron

    • You are welcome Aaron. So many people I track just moments a day over time in this job. Each one has their own story but your mother’s preface is open for all to see and then she smiles! Now that is encouraging. Blessings to you Aaron.

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