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!