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Poetry | May 2007

bone of my bone

By Larry Bauer

2 hours after
our son was born,
our nurse, lynn,
also a personal friend
of ours, carefully
stretched out each
of paul’s wrinkled,
tiny fingers on a table
and had me lay
my hand beside our son’s

it was easily 11 times
the size of paul’s

she showed me
how the pattern of
our fingers exactly
matched each other

then she spoke,

“he has your hands”

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