Left

I was on the phone, talking about

something I don't remember,

and I looked down at the table

and my left hand was opening and closing.

Had been doing it, apparently,

for several minutes.

Without me.

I watched it. The knuckles.

The fourth finger that healed crooked

after the door incident in 2014—

bends a few degrees east of where it should.

The hand opened.

Closed.

I kept talking.

There's a word for this, probably.

The body carrying on its business

while you're busy saying

yes, that sounds difficult,

I'll check my calendar.

But I kept watching it

and it kept moving

and I had the clear, specific thought:

whose is this.

It closed again

and I let it.