Unseen Hands

Hands tied shoelaces

I wasn’t wearing, fingers

remembering patterns

like a ghost tapping keys

in a dark room.

The phone droned on,

a distant hum,

while my body tangled

strings, loose and frayed,

knots without thought.

Movements without mind,

a map drawn in muscle,

quiet, unclaimed, alive—

shapes I don’t own but keep,

folded in skin’s archive.