Hands
Sometimes I think of my hands as two lovers While joined in prayer, They are the happiest Gripping each other lovingly Finally one After a day of bitter separation The fingers arch over the knuckles They fumble over the craters of my hands Fitting perfectly into one another A divine jigsaw Flesh instead of cardboard With carved lines branching like roots Traces of an eventful past Bending into an unknown future But mortal like all other Just two hands Two lovers One in prayer Happier than ever
