by Madeline Toubiana
Fingernails jagged,
tanned and thick
Aged, well worn
like rough leather
Spotted with white,
from cortisol’s touch
His hands,
they swallow me up
Those hands, they kept me
held me tight
In their comfort,
everything was safe
Love is a squeeze
an understanding of mutual need
No need for words, they said it all
your hands
I feel them now, although
they are a distant star
How can I hold them
far as they are
A dad’s hands can hold it all
until they are dust,
in a jar
over there