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.