putting down the rope

when i met you i was enraptured,
everything about you intrigued me,
but it was your hands
that made me think about you the next day

i’m sorry,
is that strange?

i could study your thumbs,
put them in a museum
and i’d pay admission price every day,
such a small part of you is so magnificent
the parts represent the whole
in this case

the way they curve abruptly
when you’re holding onto something,
the way your fingers move when you
talk with your hands
or run them through your hair
or reach for your wallet

what is it about you,
about such a seemingly small body part,
that has captured me so

i wonder what it’d be like for my hand
to slip into yours
something imperfect enclosing something perfect

what is it about others’ hands
that i envy