The Hamlet Project

They call weapons and shields and armor arms.
We had that arms race and it wasn’t
To see whose arm could reach the cookie faster.
It seems a mighty disservice to the arms
Of our bodies – to be in those arms
Is to be held, to be caressed, encircled,
A soft and steady comfort.
There is so much more to be done with arms
More dancing more waving
More reaching more tickling
More propping oneself up while reading.
Weapons have such singularity of purpose
Arms can hold everything
Even weapons.