Maria Garcia Teutsch

La Mano (The Hand)

Smooth hands are suspect.
I love the roughness of your touch,
the way your hands snag my silk blouses.
Sandpaper man, angel of the working classes,
your calluses are kisses.

I have tortilla-making hands, but don’t make them.
My fingernails have chipped red polish
from Saturday night, are cut short for typing,

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