Hands


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I’m looking at my hands again…

They seem to give me answers…although

I keep staring at them.

I roll them…this way and that

Read the palmistry (I’m not skilled)

They’re older…

No brighter

They tend to sweat…for no reason…I suppose

They tend to shake…for no reason…I suppose

My hands have been here all my life

Squeezing ketchup…in the perfect amount

Shaking spices to…just right

Writing, typing…picking boogers…

My hands are always there.

Especially…when I cry

Especially…when I fight

Especially when I shout …scream

When I need answers…when I need

I hold them above my head…is it pleading?

I’m told to pray…when kneeling

What purposes my hands forecast?

My lips move…hands move

My hands…my thoughts…

One in the same

I clasp my hands together when I think

I spread them when I’m lost

I ball them when I’m set…

My hands…

Are me….

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