Limbs

Fingers bound inside a toothèd future,
Hands begin to feel the forms of air
and weave against the waves
dealt down from Heaven
‘pon a stage of deeper nature

God unwilling, and they dare
declare rebellion be their teacher
Every age and creature
lets their fingers loosen, flare

And so descends a crooked ‘dex
that lifts with effort, tendons
flex their pointing, jointing
from beneath:

A promised gift of healing there,
to clothe itself in everywhere,
a leaf