Hands

I wrote this about my first lover. He was fascinated by how tiny my hands looked in his and it struck me how reflective our hands were of the larger differences between male and female bodies.

Soft skin
Swallowed
By hard hands
Hollowed
To cup
Sweet curves
Within

Smooth paleness
Moves
In weathered
Grooves
Where you end,
I begin.

Large fingers
Trace
With gentle
Grace
The lines across
My palm

To you
It matters
How my freckles
Scatter
And so I hold
Your hand

The End

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