they invade my memory: hands do
your hands:
little warm worms
digging in my cold earth
tiny heart shaped palms
kissed
and sent off to school
this morning: your fingers trace a line
on the corridor wall
as we walk to room 100
your hands (that take the shape of swans,
mountains, oceans, flowers,
and pillows) wring the memory out of me.
and maybe it wouldn't be so bad
if i could forget the shape of your hand
running down my back
when we said goodbye too often
your little hands do
2 comments:
Wowzers, go-o-o-od.
sadness of sadnesses. bon job.
word verification: slevel
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