Passion Poetry: My Father's Hands

Sunday, November 28, 2004

My Father's Hands

My Father's Hands No, I can not see myself-- But, I can see my hands. Wide palms, the fatness of my knuckles with swirling folds, skin covered with cris-cross cracks and thick creases Nails--flat, chipped, irregular tips, I pick the dirt from beneath them or scrape with the pocket knife Fingers not so long and thin and graceful as my Mother's, or my sister's or my daughters' reaching octaves and strumming harmonious chords. I can see my hands-- They're not so big as my Fathers' One with a... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by freerain at 5:06 PM Comments (1) (permalink)