Homage to my Hands

Homage to my Hands
(for Lucille Clifton’s Homage to my Hips)

These hands are inventor’s hands,

worn to a calloused middle finger where they hold the pen,

scissors, and sewing needle.

These hands are tender hands.

They have rocked babies to sleep,

crafted peanut butter sandwiches, and pinned up quilted forts.

These hands are seductive hands,

teasing with backrubs and tangling themselves in a men’s hair.

These hands are working hands.

They have laid concrete, sod, and roofing tiles.

These hands are thieving hands,

pocketing earrings without paying the price.

These hands have flipped the bird,

flipped the channel, and flipped my hair.

These hands are crooked hands,

scarred and chipped in all the right places.

These hands are indented by rings,

scratched by cats, and scented with sandalwood lotion.

These hands have plunged through ice

and come up breathing and bleeding.