i stand naked before the mirror. full length and nothing to hide.
what do you like Me, what do you see? there is skin and hair
and hands, it’s always my hands. they’re not perfect, but
they’re me. strong and proud, prominent grip. i turn
them over each other, and examine their vein.
there have been times of fatigue, of weakness
and weary and anxious distrust, i know
it’s my hands, i can trust, that my grip
is as strong is as strong as ever.
yes, it’s me, linked fingers and
memories of scars, from
when i was young, and
ran free and