Eva Tihanyi

HANDS


1.

It: the universal pronoun of everything

She’s not sure how it happens
but it does

She gives birth, becomes new,
a fresh version of herself
moving in a world more dangerous
yet more beautiful
than what it was

She balances lightly
along the invisible seam
between thought and word,
becomes once again
conscious of amazement

Is amazed by what
she still feels for him,
how in the beginning
she wore his dark love on her throat
like a cameo, like a hand

Now loves him more deeply
though depth is not always passion

Recognizes
that if this is a sadness,
so too is love



2.

Wonder: August,
lush and muscular,
clouds moving
against a plum and sinew night,
air heavy on skin,
palpable

She rolls it silently on her tongue:
plum and sine, palpable
her mind pliant, plying through words,
hand through fur, feet
through long, soft grass

He stands by the window,
arms crossed, hands hidden

Dark sky, he says

Rain



3.

She waits in the cooling dark, watches
the clouds give way to stars, envies
the cat curled against his heart,
its trust instinctive as purring

It takes the warm rhythms of his hand,
gives back its pleasure

She, too, used to be able to do this
freely

In his hands she was a homecoming,
soul and body one

Now there’s a faltering wedged between them,
a sudden virgule she can’t turn
into a hyphen’s small wisdom

Attempt at understanding:
futile as grabbing dust motes
in the curtain-filtered moonlight

All she knows: how much
she wants to write herself home
into his hands


HANDWRITING


Hand, writing
Writing hand
Writing: hand

Right-handed
Left-handed
Backhanded
Underhanded
Have a hand in it
Hands up
Hands down
Hand in hand
Hands of time

Handout
Handmade
Hand-me-down
Hands on
Hands off
Play the hand
Handle

Handcuff
Hand job
Hand gun
Handshake
Shaking hands
Hands tied

Give me a hand
Hand it over
Hand me your hands
Unhand me