Hands by Kathryn Bianco
I crave cold hands.
I want to feel the ice
On my abandoned parts
With time, watch them thaw
Gradually revealing every crease,
Wrinkle and bump;
Like Winter turning into Spring,
Spring turning into Summer.
Even in winter, warmer will they grow
So that one day both pairs
Can burn together; fire-hot
To melt the metal that makes the ring.
This poem is one of the chosen entries for DESA’s Valentine’s Themed Poetry Competition.