Saturday, October 18, 2014

my hands

my hands etch down sighs, sketching this motion
along calligraphy nib on rag hair’s whisper,

my hands shape ancient arm break in air
my hands cup your phantom memory hip
--can you still them, flying away to you?

hands carving the energy forming impressions
of your need, on a night of talking with my hands 

© Christiane Lopez