Written by Gabriella Troy
Art by Luis Dalvan


Hands
say a lot about a person
                   Read between lines of age
                                      yesterday’s blame, point out
                                                         their shaping tomorrow.

If they’re friendly, they might wave
                                                                            hello
To the man walking his dog on lunch break
                   to the dog who’s probably nicer upon first meeting
                                      he’d get right up in your face and
                                                         bark some creative gibberish
To the colleague waiting to cross the street
                   to the sun trying too hard to be seen
                                      he’d block your face and white-out your name
                                                         remember there’s a meeting at 3 o’clock
To the homeless woman begging with her eyes
                   to the memories needed to be shared
                                      they’d slip right past your ears and
                                                         into an empty cup, cracked.

Hands
come in different sizes
                                                         of pain
High five to the winner
                   he trampled the loser in the hallway
                                      pat on the back, teacher’s pet has
                                                         jokes only the squad knows
A minefield of blisters
                   stealing energy down the river
                                      run into a wall of anger, self defense
                                                         against an ugly past of working hard
Stretched over keys
                   soulful melodies up the driveway
                                      jamming out, stuck in the door
                                                         between slapping and shaking.

What I need to know about you and
                                                                            your hands
Feel it in my gut
                   they’d fit perfectly in my eye socket
                                      bruised heart, beating like a pinata
                                                         full of your party favors, shattered
Feel it in my skin
                   they’d fit perfectly between my knuckles
                                      pull me up, hold tightly to the safety bar
                                                         rollercoaster to the sky, blue water slide
Feel it in my mind
                   they’d fit perfectly in my thoughts
                                      make lucid dreams, promises within eyesight
                                                         motion towards me, onwards.