Jake's Flea Market

with this hand i reached
out the window and released
the raven who flew and found
carcasses afloat
upon the apocalypse of flood and fed
and never returned

and with this same hand i reached 
out the same window and released
three times released the dove who flew and found
nothing and returned

flew and found an olive leaf and returned

flew and found an olive branch protruded
out of an ocean unbroken
by continents and landed and perched
and never returned

it’s my stronger hand scratched
scarred calloused it’s the hand that plucked
the grape from the vine squeezed
the juice from the grape into the cup raised
the cup of wine to my lips and drank drank drank

it’s my right hand the hand that unbuttoned
the robe that slid
from my shoulders to the ground it’s the hand that made
me naked as honesty and as offensive

and with this
my left hand unblemished
delicate perfect i’ve done
nothing