the hands

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The Hands Author(s): Denis Johnson Source: The Iowa Review, Vol. 1, No. 2 (Spring, 1970), p. 14 Published by: University of Iowa Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20157556 . Accessed: 13/06/2014 14:16 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp . JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected]. . University of Iowa is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to The Iowa Review. http://www.jstor.org This content downloaded from 62.122.79.52 on Fri, 13 Jun 2014 14:16:48 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

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Page 1: The Hands

The HandsAuthor(s): Denis JohnsonSource: The Iowa Review, Vol. 1, No. 2 (Spring, 1970), p. 14Published by: University of IowaStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20157556 .

Accessed: 13/06/2014 14:16

Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at .http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

.JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range ofcontent in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new formsof scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].

.

University of Iowa is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to The Iowa Review.

http://www.jstor.org

This content downloaded from 62.122.79.52 on Fri, 13 Jun 2014 14:16:48 PMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

Page 2: The Hands

THE HANDS

walking down the street he is afraid

of all the things that move, and mostly he is afraid of time, whose movement

involves hands, for instance

the hand of death, also,

years before there were

the fearful, sociable hands stretching out

like torn instruments from the deep friendliness of salesmen, and now, each morning, forever, the life insurance comes up with the sun.

he asks the sidewalks, is this real?

this morning i get up, my wife

is warm, asleep, massaged

but not by my hands, if these are hands.

she is soothed

by good luck and dull machinery and nothing flows from her hands but sleep.

my hands are hands, only

sometimes they grow outward and then they are

everything, the re-enactment

of the wrong, extended craziness of flesh

and what it covers, our risked valuables,

the fast clocks, the back seats

of cars loading up on death and semen,

the nights that force us

into practically death and always the choked out hands of my wife

in the bed, still sleeping.

This content downloaded from 62.122.79.52 on Fri, 13 Jun 2014 14:16:48 PMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions