A play for two hands.

Narrator:

My hands are lands that feud and fight
because one’s Left and one is Right.
They could make art; they could bake bread
but they’d rather make war instead.
The Left King says

Left Thumb:

Those Right’s aren’t right;
they should be left; so let us fight.
Left and Right shall never unite!

Narrator:

The Right King says

Right Thumb:

It’s time Lefts left.
A left hand’s only deft at theft.
We shall put all the lefts to death!

Narrator:

And so those hands begin to war,
though hands are made for so much more;
their fingers, locked in battle, twist,
or knuckles clash in curled up fists.
I urge them, “Please be pacifists”,
but they won’t listen; they persist;
with bitten fingernails, they rend
and battle to the bitter end.

And so I touch two fingertips
together, like two lovers lips
and, in my two fingers, feel tingle,
the longing of two love’s to mingle.

The right finger, called Romeo,
now loves a sweet left finger so.
The left finger, called Juliet,
has felt a love she can’t forget.

Both fingers long to stroke; to touch
their tips like lips again, so much;
sip thimblefuls of love’s sweet wine;
tussle,tickle and entwine.

Juliet:

Oh, why must left be foe of right?
It leaves my heart bereft of light.

Romeo:

Two hands could press their palms in prayer
or, like two wings, take to the air.

Romeo & Juliet:

Oh stars above, shining so bright;
whose fingers touch the world with light;
I wish our war would end tonight
and left and right at last unite.

Narrator:

What’s this?! Whats this?! A miracle;
loves healing feeling slowly spreads
and, from my hands, the manacle
of maniacal hate is shed
as two loves become newlyweds
and two hands put an end to war,
becoming firmest friends once more