Hands

by Taylor Porton   Jul 4, 2007


Long thick wrinkled things
tools
Without you
I would be lost.
Long feathery nails
ready to chip off
at the slightest threat of of hostility
wrist bone
knuckles
veins
Your composure is so radically delicate
yet intimidatingly strong.
I think of you almost
as a tree
Long trunk leading to your flowered ends.
What this on one of your branches?
You've got an ornament
Simple but
it sparkles.
It wouldn't make a sound until questioned
and when the sun catches it
illuminated
it whispers,
"I'm pretty."
You smile tiredly at this young jewel.
It is naive and does not realize that
the real beauty lies
underneath
in your calluses.

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