If you've got them it's a crime not to use them.

 

(Modified image courtesy of Angela Roma's original)




STILL FINGERS

 

 

In all the photos I recall
She never held my hand
I think it was coincidence
Rather than intention.
I didn't even touch hers
Beneath the taut white sheets
In Abergavernny hospital
Where she lay, still, dying.


A modicum of herself
Though clearly still her,
Still and barely breathing,
But still fully recognisable.


Hands have always been
Another sense for me.
Not only the feels of touching
But the language that only
Fingers can understand -
As unique as their prints.


Perhaps some fingerprints
Are like magnets that either
Attract or repel.

© Griffonner 2025

 





Poetry by Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 103 times
Written on 2026-01-18 at 12:04

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D G Moody The PoetBay support member heart!
I think our generation, born to parents who live through WWII, had to carry the burden of their trauma; one result being a difficulty in expressing love.
2026-01-29


jim The PoetBay support member heart!
This reminds me of a friend from my teen years who waxed rhapsodic about the sensuousness of holding hands with his girlfriend. I think he thought as you, another sense, more than the sum of its parts, a "language only fingers can understand."

Vivid images, the taut sheets, the stillness. You make it real.

jim
2026-01-18