Hands that walked
the plank of your superstition
when beliefs don't care
why it soaked the ink
into its winding abyss
blotted violet and green
why I don't care for peonies
stonewashed fabric
flimsily covering
the abundant scatterings of evidence
of how time has progressed
and willfully been dismissed
I have gagged you
and tied you with locks of hair
but it is you who broke yourself
from the head of the ship
with the eagerness
and the earnestness
of a fool who does not recognize
worth or time
or even the validity of their own beliefs
when they go to great lengths
to dodge them