Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

Your Hands

Wandering albatrosses
your eyes
as they pirouette
over puckered pages.
Inside me floods rise, then ebb
leaving back debris
under caustic light.

And that smirk on your face?
Yet, no pointing at
mismatched lines
as you grasp
my hands in yours
like cocoons.
Empathy through your fingers...

So, why worry?
Even if on paper
I can’t capture me,
I can still love the world.


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Prompt: Fingers, hands, or both hands