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Fingered: an Annunciation poem
The only things that matter in this scene
Are Mary’s hands. Her head is egg-like to
A laughable degree; the damascene
Embroidery of the robe with gold worked through
It; wings deformed, small as thalidomide
Limbs; perfect space perspective for the room—
All factors fall like ash to nothing, glide
Away from our consideration, zoom
To nothingness beside those noble hands,
Humility in dignity, as true
As gestures on the archest stage, in Japan’s
Nō theatre. They are the painting’s coup.
..The right hand gestures, “Why for me this part?”
….The left clasps calamity to her heart.