Left-hand Handed
My uncle is left-handed like me,
at least before I was in third grade.
Not that I was treated as devil-touched.
Just no one knew how to help a left hand
hold right-handed scissors or share
right-handed space or teach a left hand
to make oblong slants to prepare stand-alone
letters to become cursive-connected.
All this warned that my left hand was a mistake.
But Mammaw believed a body had a right to be
what a body needed to be and didn’t change my fork
from left to right. And she knew my left-handed mother
ghosted my fingers.
At big family dinners, I sat next to my left-handed uncle.
His hand, elbow, and arm held a non-competing
clause with mine. I still eat with my left hand and bat
a left-handed drive. I drift left when I walk and birthed
a left-handed daughter who had left-handed scissors,
who curled her letters in a left-right, right-left, upside-down
way, who answered my right elbow? with a chuckling left knee.
22 thoughts on "Left-hand Handed"
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This is a sweet poem. I am reminded of my left handed father who ever waved his left hand in large circles over the page before he signed a most amazing signature. He was a great artist too! There’s something about the left-handed perspective that the righties have yet to catch up on. Thank you for bringing our hearts and minds to this topic.
Great image you paint of your left-handed father!
Great poem about both holding true to who you are despite all the challenges you faced, while also highlighting how our world is becoming more accommodating. I really enjoyed this.
Thanks Philip. Truly a thin line to walk sometimes.
I love this, Pam. My best friend in high school is left handed and I loved looking at her writing. This brought back memories. And my grandson? Still don’t know but he grabs a lot of things with his left hand! Take care.
Thanks! Hope you wrote a poem about your grandson’s little hands!
Thanks for speaking out for Lefties! There are only 10% of us and we are creative! We have to be in a right- handed world!!!
Welcome!
I really enjoyed this poem. It ends so well. I think my favorite part was “ghosted my fingers” because it was such a good unexpected thing
Thanks! Ghosted my fingers is a favorite part of mine too. That and the ending. I still hear her delightful answer!
I always love your remembrances, Pam. I love how these strong women helped you accept yourself:
But Mammaw believed a body had a right to be
what a body needed to be and didn’t change my fork
from left to right. And she knew my left-handed mother
ghosted my fingers.
Thank you, Ellen, Glad they are in my bones!
Pam, loved the tenderness of this poem.
I’m right-handed, but I do some things left-handed–for instance playing fighting solitaire with my sisters–can’t play it any other way.
Thanks, Karen!
Fighting Solitaire! You gotta write a poem about this!
I like the flow of this poem and how it teaches me to better understand my left handed daughter
Thank you! Glad it helps, too!
I smiled big throughout
Was fun to write. Read it to my uncle and daughter who laughed!
I love the detail of forged camaraderie here:
His hand, elbow, and arm held a non-competing
clause with mine.
Thank you! Now there are three on a side with a non-competing clause!
Lefties unite!
I can see all of this. bravo!
Thank you and yes!