Hands.

Alden Wallace Mackay // Contributor

You always loved to fidget with your hands

grinding a thumb into your palm

turning one over for inspection

searching amongst the newfound lines

as if they were a road map leading you

to a home you haven’t yet found. Hmm.

Perhaps love isn’t the right word to use.

You’re not looking for a presence

but instead taking note of the absences,

and you take no comfort

in what was but is no more— 

the silver lining of grief— 

choosing instead to dwell on

what never was in the first place.

The hands are not a bad place to start

when in search of one’s mortality but

if I may make a suggestion: You

might have better luck searching

instead on the inside of your eye lids.

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