Something Must Be Wrong With My Hands Poem by Lynne RBC

Something must be wrong with my hands.
My plants are dying
and I've killed 2 of my dogs.
Well, not that I strangled them to death.
But maybe I missed on a meal, or a drink
or a cuddle. I'm not sure.
Can't seem to fix this error.
Perhaps, it's one good reason for God
not to give me children.
Like mom's china, I might dropp and break them.

I know these hands are, in a lot of ways, connected to the heart.
You loved it when I've held you with them, remember?
I also know this heart, in turn, is connected to the whole body.
It's simple logic, really.
Still, I can't help but wonder,
Does that make me a factory defect altogether?