in spite of everything, your hands

still in my hair

still unscrewing the bottle

of oil open    still ringed

with gold    staining green

your hands memorising the backs

of my ears     think of your hands folding

sheets  think of your hands cutting

tomatoes    i think of your hands

smacking  the comb against

my temples when i turn

to look up at you    why else would i

let you hold me like this again

fingers kneading my scalp

into new ripeness    while your eyes

go glassy staring at the tv

my head in your lap    your hands

in my hair     learning to swim

slicing through the dark    your

hands in my hair like my hands

learning new muscles in your back

why else do i put towels down

wherever i sleep    if not to dream

of turning the whole world

bright green    foam in the shower

rinsing your hands out of my head

to watch the drain gurgle with applause? ∎

 

Words by Cia Mangat. Art by Sasha LaCômbe.