with our four hands we will build an archaic instrument. your hands are rough-hewn stony and strong. mine are long-boned, precise as clockwork.
our hands will fit together the curved planes of wood, sand each edge, soften angles, devise the machinery to spin the nested glass half-spheres.
yours will tighten the vise, hold the heavy tools and mine will cradle the delicacies, the glass bowls, the thin wires, the soft velvet lining.
when our instrument is built our four hands will take turns sliding their dampened fingers across each spinning half-globe to make the glasses sing.
-jess
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