tremor

The shake
The slight shake
   Of my hand
   Can be hidden
       Disguised
   Folded up in an envelope
If need be
Or held at bay
   By a wall of bricks
   As fake as my smile
But these days
   I more often forget
   To notice
   Even use my pockets
The simplest of things falling
   Behind
   The taste of plaster
       In my mouth
Perhaps soon
I shall sit center
Facing all eyes
   As I inflate
   Paper boxes
   To juggle
       Behind my back

The twitch in my left eye
Is another matter