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Poem

The first invisible hand I saw, was the hand that appeared 
in the banquet hall of the Babylonian palace, inscribing 
letters on the wall, with its fingertip, 

the letters, written by the invisible visible hand, on the wall 
may be an astonishing revelation, the inscription on the wall  
is not as impressive as the visible invisible hands stretching  
desperately on the canvas in ‘Guernica’. 

By the time I learned of the existence of an invisible hand, 
it’s an embarrassing situation but the invisible hand disappeared 
from our surroundings, already; a crow flew away to the place unknown 
carrying my poor soul.

Presently, however, every hand has
its own color and goes loose in the marketplace 

the clean white hands called holy 
dipped and pulled out from holy water;
the bluish hands dyed from bruised people treated cruelly;
the dictator’s red hands stained from the blood of innocent people;

other hands,
messy hands stained from oil spouting from the well;
the bright gold hands of the man who found a vein of gold.

Nonetheless, there still is, the invisible hand, out there,
this hand occasionally fumbles into my breast, pulls my heart out 
and tattoos an unsightly tattoo which can’t be removed or cut out   

and when becomes bored of tattooing my heart, the hand squeezes 
into the brain, connects and disconnects the delicate linkage of my thoughts 
and beclouds my judgment 

it’s really annoying, but what can I do?
since it’s an invisible hand.

That’s the devil’s hand a dog plays with,
the dog tosses, chases and chews it in his mouth.

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