hand signs

I.

Two months after you left

I could still see your reflection in my fingernails

Couldn’t tell if my eyes were playing tricks on me

So I formed fists of undeserved rage

Made silent vows to never open them

Told myself

That the cuts on my palm

were less painful

Then having to think about you.

II.

When that worked,

You became stubborn,

 and came back to me

My palm re-opened

III

I felt victorious

For a sour season

As you loved other bodies

With my eyes, with my hands

My anger sat in my bottom lip

Like an anchor of tobacco

IV.

The final time you left

My mouth stopped working

My hands formed planks like a promise

I kneeled as if I was begging

I prayed like it was something I believed in.