Hands and Gloves

I.

Her hands are soft and swollen like a peach--
The juicy kind you won’t find every day.
For everything she needs within her reach
They serve her well; and yet to my dismay
They wield an enchantment over me--
The scary kind that makes my heart beat fast.
But I’m beyond her reach. They cannot be
Responsible for every spell they’ve cast
And so she gently postpones their demands
And hesitates until a later date.
There’s tenderness and mercy in these hands--
The loving kind that might be worth the wait.
     For now they hide in gloves of winter style--
     The woolen kind that spring will render futile.

II.

her rosy scarred hands
clutch the steering wheel
tap keys at the piano
write clap type and
accomplish mundane tasks

they wield an enchantment over me--
     the kind she never asked for
     the kind she doesn’t want
     the kind she won’t throw away
so she puts on gloves for now

3.09
s.d.