John Grey
Your Hands
These are the caregiver hands,
washing the apples before I eat them,
ensuring no germs enter my mouth.
And sometimes, they're the tender hands,
like wisps on my skin,
barely touching though deeply felt.
They can be surprisingly strong hands too:
in the backyard with the chainsaw,
or pushing that indolent mower
about the lawn.
In the dark, they can be a thief s hands,
stealing bits of me so I don't notice,
pressing them to your .heart
And lover's hands' of course when,
in the course of your thievery,
you feel the urge to leave some token
of yourself to replace what was stolen.
The hands come with you, the same package,
though often with intent divorced
from what the rest of you is implying
or wanting or needing..
Like, when they're the holding hands,
grasping my hands, all of them.