So here's my transcription, as best I can figure. I'm sure the line breaks are wrong in places since I only have his pauses to go on. There may be stanza breaks, as well and I could guess where they might be placed but I'd prefer to leave it as is rather than compound my errors.
It's an interesting experiment: it really does make you pay close attention to the rhythm and stops of the spoken word, trying to parse out what he means from what he says. This could be one reason why spoken word and slam poetry doesn't affect me as much - it's like standup comedy. Sure, it's funny in the moment and the timing has got to be just right. But you can't keep it, hold on to it, come back to it. And I think I need that, it's part of why I set out on this blogxperiment in the first place.
With just a little further ado, I think anyone with siblings can probably appreciate where this poem is coming from.
Robert Pinsky
Other Hand
the one whose accomplishments and privileges
are unshowy:
getting to touch the tattoo on my right shoulder,
wearing the mitt.
I feel its familiar weight and textures
as the adroit one
rests against it for a moment.
They twine fingers.
Lefty continues to experience considerable difficulty expressing himself
clearly and correctly in writing.
Comparison with his brother prevents him from putting forth
his best effort.
Yet this halt one, too, has felt a breast,
thigh, clasped an ankle or,
most intimate of all,
the fingers of a hand.
And possibly his trembling touch as less nearly adept and confident
is subtly the more welcome of the two.
In the Elysian fields,
where every defect will be compensated
and the last will be first,
this one will lead skillfully
while the other will assist.
And as my shadow stalks that underworld
the right hand, too, will rejoice -
released from its long burden of expectation,
the yoke of dexterity finally laid to rest.
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