HOME | DD

Description
your hands whisper against my sides and along my face,
although they do not claim
my skin as your own so often anymore.

i watch them clench and curl,
pick up knives and chop limes
for the drinks they will lift to your mouth.

you don't look right with cigarettes
perched between your fingers,
but i appreciate the effort.

pens, though, and weaponry,
wine bottles and silverware
all fit perfectly.

strangers comment on the softness
of your overlarge palms,
your smooth fingernails.

they don't know the work
your hands have finished
or all they'll never do.