In the Wrong Hands: Poetry

By Jordan Marshall-Pinegar


Don’t give it away,

whatever it is,

to the wrong person.

Because when you see it

in their hands

it will look different

and somehow

you’ll be sorry you let them

hold it,

whatever it is:

The way you felt that day on the subway

when the man with his son

counted the seven dollars in his wallet twice,

or your secret fear

of jumping off bridges,

your virginity, or your poem.

And when they’re standing there

with that thing you gave them


because they don’t stop talking about themselves,

like something stupid they did in highschool,

or “Oh yeah hey I forgot to tell you this funny thing that happened

to me—

then you feel like

snatching it

back, and you feel

like you’re going to die.