hands capable

A Poem by aeo

reflection on a moment with phones and hands as guiding and separating images.

in my childhood
bed i remember you asked me
over a phone i broke
four months ago to make love
to you over airwaves
and i said no; the idea
of phone-sex in a loft-bed seemed so
kiddie-porn; hips rising on purple and
orange patterned sheets, picked with
the pudgy hands of my
nine-year-old-self, transformed
now to hands capable
and hands holding out
to you.