Author Information
Para saber todo sobre los manos
when I was born the Doctor said, “I would have big hands”.
strong hands
hands that understand
understand me
mine have their own rhythm
mine are scarred and knarly
rough and calloused
quick to make a fist
slow to record a list
I understand
their last chance
at a lucky lesson of a hand to be played
the revolving doors of their liaisons laid
until they point in the wrong directions
hail a cab for my corrections
they will drink for two
and sleep separately
they will bring my idiosyncrasies some favored tokens
echo the claps
of clapping hands
they will grab for me with fingers interlaced
then forgive me, my pleasure
notice me rubbing them
while the pain expands to soon
stiff and swelling
but, I still believe in the unknown
the future is in my own hands
I like
I love your outlook and the powerful way you ended this poem. Very well done
Leaves me feeling so
Leaves me feeling so peaceful.... loved this 9inety.
.....almost like it as much as "the poet alone". A close tie. Love 9inety is the score. ;-)
..or I think maybe it's "9inety love" they would say in tennis.
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "