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.