Hands

by donnarkevic

Tania moonlights as an actress,
soft porn, and a dancer, an exotic
at the Pink Pussy Kat an hour south,
her club name, Mercedes. No one knows
at work except Harry, who showed one night:

On stage, Tania (make that Mercedes) struts
in six-inch stilettoes, bra, g-string, gloves, cape,
mask, and cat ears, all black. When she notices
Harry, she dances around him, letting others
tuck beer-soaked dollars under her garter.

When she removes her cape and folds it
tight as a military funeral flag,
Harry recognizes her fold, exact as origami,
her hands quick as a magician's, a pair
of synchronized love birds he enjoys
watching at work as she folds hospital gowns

Harry stands to leave.
Mercedes removes her gloves.
He watches her naked fingers flutter.
She removes her bra. He watches her
manicured nails flicker. When she lifts
her garter and waits, he slips a folded bill
into the nest of her palm and holds her hand.
When their eyes meet, Harry quotes Shakespeare,
A contract of an eternal bond of love
is confirmed by a mutual joinder of hands.

Later, when Tania counts tips, she discovers
a twenty folded into a bird. She displays it
on her dresser. Falling asleep, she dreams
like Kafka and, waking, finds her hands
transformed into wings.