I hold pixel hands
as if they were flesh
plastic hands and hands of glass
hands of dismembered paper dolls
I imagine blood vessels, warmth
a nervous system, it’s what I do

this little piggy went—
no, it couldn’t go because
I wasn’t there to hold its hand
so it stayed home sulking
its snout pressed against the window
add this piggy hand specimen
to the collection

this little piggy
never had secure attachment
so it’s doomed to have
a chronic case of the Big Sad
ameliorated only by
momma holding its hand
saying: you are a very special piggy

so many little piggies to hold
momma’s hands are going numb
momma needs to grow a bigger lap
for all the sad little piggies
there’s going to be enough room for all
and you are still the most special piggy