my hands touch
m y s e l f
running warm skin
slipping down like honeysuckle on summer’s first night.
what for so long i only thought
o t h e r ’ s
could approach and take away.
eye off, own in their enlarged hands.
hands so large they smother every pocket and pore my body is allowed,
too large, hands
t o o l a r g e .
a body i only minimised and hurt and
even if my brain
in its state of altered eternity
forgot, muddled, pretended to
what stranger’s hands that touched meant to
my body, that now
forever accepts, bows down
to those with no thoughts, no feelings, no trust
d a r e d
they don’t deserve what i don’t know. so now
and own my legs that walk across
m o u n t a i n s
and arms that comfort those
who have also been touched by enlarged hands.
and my touch, my s k i n it is my own.