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The devil finds work

for idle hands

I don’t believe in all that jazz

a boy once told me I had eyes

like the sun when it comes

through the rain

the devil’s beating his wife

they say

when it rains

and the sun comes out

I don’t believe in idle hands

my hands are always knitting new wounds

painting a landscape all in black

black as the devil you know

black as the bible

burning your hand

or your fingertips there

in the snow

a boy once told me

I had hands

like two pale pink doves

my hands take the wire out of pianos

and make fences I don’t have to mend

wire’s a bastard

it doesn’t forgive

burn down my body

take all my bread

bury my head with the emperor's clothes

my sympathies lie with the devil

wherever he goes.

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