Seen At the Local Museum

Musty crimson felted mittens,
two thumbs extant;
underneath a card says
they were oiled before wear.
Set upon a balustrade,
they seem out of place.
Each of us (a group at
the Musée d’Orsay in Paris),
urge, in turn, others to speculate
what area the recipient
might have been working
in while wearing them.

Maybe Inquisition, a dungeon
or the Tower of London;
it had to be from long ago,
because they are so dry.
Try one on! 
Someone blurts in back--
I am not so bold.
To me, the two thumbs
bespeak of persecution,
enemies within 
displaying gross deformity.
Nobody should touch them,
says another.  Seems like
the history of man.


26 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
6-19-16