My hands are calloused
and scarred
chipped nails and stained
but they have lived
struggled, fought--
and they are mine.
Showing posts with label hands. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hands. Show all posts
PAD 16
Touch
Nerve endings like outstretched fingers,
hoping for a grip, a grasp
a touch.
There are promises whirling the tips of each pad,
epidermal edicts against being senseless.
National Poetry Month - Day 23
Preface: Today was a really sexually-charged writing day; who knows why...but I was writing and grinning like a fool.
I can hold my hand right here
just here, just so
silently, unless smirks speak
then I'm yelling "victory..."
My other fingers are lost somewhere
wall hair hip, hip hair,
wall breast. They are so inconsistent
unlike the others steady in their determination. I can hold you up
my hand
right here, just here, just so
holding you cupped to catch you should you fall
