Poem: Your Hands

Some guys go for great big racks

Protruding in the air.

Some guys go for long lean legs

And locks of silky hair.

Some guys go for buns of steel

Firm as just-picked peaches.

Some guys go for puffy lips,

bikinis on the beaches.

 

I’m not insane,

I don’t complain

When offered such delights.

But even so

You need to know

What haunts my days and nights.

Your hands, your hands, your soft sweet hands

Touching everywhere.

Your hands, your hands, your soft sweet hands: I’m hoping you will share, your hands, your hands, your soft sweet hands, so strong and elegant, your hands, your hands, your soft sweet hands, your hands.

 

When you stroke those fingers, dear,

Upon my lucky face,

Momentarily I know

What they mean by grace.

Keyboards cry for your touch,

As do diamond rings.

They can’t know your majesty

Because they’re only things.

But I’ve got eyes that realize

how I’m oh-so-ready

to admire and

Be touched by a Living Giacometti

 

 

You put the cute in cuticle. I chuckle at your knuckles. Gimme a twist of your wrist. A parcel of your metatarsals. The calm of your palm.

Too much of your touch!

 

 

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