Posted on December 19, 2013 by Dorielle Parker
From my blog:
I like it the most when you speak with your hands,
y o u –
fully unveiled from words.
(Like weapons they hold us hostage)
But you look so beautiful just like that!
Without any hang-ups or punctuations.
No finger can curl the wrong way,
No thumb too long a nail.
When we first spoke your hands were in mittens,
I knit them myself.
Thought I could catch you that way.
I’m glad you we outgrew them.
show your wrists
that turn the World
so boldly blanketed with stars,
A quilt you made one Wednesday noon.
Upon this tapestry so worn and woven
There’s a hole.
Can you see it?
(It’s a secret!)
My finger’s on it.
It waits for yours.