GRIEF Poem: HANDS, by Justin D’Alesandro

I am picturing your hands
Because I could
Or I would Find them anywhere.
Holding grab rails-
Your nail beds bitten down.
Because when I told you kick the habit
You bit harder. Like you were starving.
Like you were greater than what your body could hold.
Like you were.
Because you are.
Because your hands are the part of you
I got to move closer to me.
Because they, right now, are likely holding
A body.
That bears semblance, perhaps greater.
This body is newer, runs warm.
And if bodies are flames and flames go dull
Where does that put your hands?
I am at the bottom of every candle I own.
I am watching once big flames suffocate themselves,
Screaming for one last moment before they
Collapse into a single stream of smoke.
I am far less than what my body
Could hold.
Every night I let you sink your
Hands into my back until your grip unraveled me
And I felt so small this way. I felt so, so much.
I am picturing myself in your hands,
Inside.
Around.
In between.

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film. View all posts by poetryfest