Work in progress To be lifted up to the sky, overcast. To be cradled in the warm sun. To be held at all angles, To have your skin gently washed in the kitchen sink on college street while teething on a blue towel, sucking out its juice. To be saved from drowning after missing a … Continue reading My Mother’s Hands
Tag: #hands
Your Hands
Human contact craving, Magnetic oxytocin. A hand, leeching emotional algae Like a sea urchin weeping on shore, Seamlessly empty. A teacup’s steam creeps through Into shirt seams Like hands brushing pale cheeks. Pinch me, It’s okay. I’m only dreaming Of your hands.
Intrinsic Significance 