His Hands: by CJ Heck

His Hands

I was thinking, you can tell so much about a man by looking at his hands. 

Hands are so expressive. They can be kind, generous and loving, or they can be tough and aggressive and very unkind.

Are they working hands, calloused and rough, yet gentle?

 Are they hands that live at a desk, always clean and smooth and forever busy?

 Are they well-manicured and neat, or nervous, their nails chewed to the nub?

Are they wild and expressive, flying this way and that in a conversation?

Or, are they shy and pocketed, subdued like their owner?

However hands look, they seem to have their own personality.

And, maybe, just maybe, they're magically connected to a man's heart ...

His Hands

His hands should have

their own identity,

a name, perhaps,

befitting each vocation

they enjoy:

Skillful Hands --

Finely tuned,

they hold every tool

with equal panache.

Each callous earned,

a trophy,

but self-aware

and gentle

as they browse

my every curve.

Comical Hands --

The right one

scraping whiskers,

razoring down

a field of white

revealing trails of

pink-skinned angles.

I laugh at the silly poses

skewed by the left

so the right

won't miss a spot.

My just reward,

a foamy kiss.

Angry Hands --

His driving hands,

hands that slap

the wheel

as assholes

go too slow

or cut in front,

turn signals

up their butts

with their heads.

I'm glad the

angry hands

are only known

to live in cars.

Those hands --

I love his hands.

[From the book, "Anatomy of a Poet", by CJ Heck]

Buy at Amazon


"A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write." ~CJ Heck