I have a
scrape on my
knuckle of my right pinky finger. Two scars on my right index finger and a
scar on the body of my hand just below my right index
finger. I only mention this because its on the part of the hand that you can't see.
I photocopied my hand at work, and then I wrote a letter on the palm. A
sonnet of sorts about the smell of the
hospital, which I cut through to get to
work from my last class of the day.
It never bothered me before today.
By the entrance to the hospital they were having a print sale.
Mothers and nurses looking through the prints in the bins. I nearly cried.
How crazy. I just pictured that somewhere in the hospital those mothers had children who were
sick and sleeping. They were looking for a picture of a
teddy bear or a
sunset or anything to hang in the room that would make their child smile.
I trace around the
photocopied hand with pink highlighter. And then yellow
marker, which doesn't show up very well. Then blue. The
words, written in green ink stand out from the page.
I do this a lot. There are photocopies of my hand all over the place. But, I want to call this one art. I want to frame it and find that
sick kid in the
hospital. I want to hang it on his wall.