Your Hands Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Your hands
Calloused
Toiling in this drudgery
Impugn to the wildfire
Of my hair,
The rivers, the soft dew
On the lemon grass.

The sycophancy of the parasol,
The sudden gush of pristine opus
In the inamorata,
Her hands
Blithe in structures
Latticed to the weak shoulders
Of the world,
Lingering through the pale lips
Of the sullen moon,
The encumbered oceans
Her oceans,
Oceanic eyes that stretched
Through flagrant marvels.

Your hands,
And how they fret
Through the wind,
The dark
Until they found their way
Towards me.