they mean well

my hands

are dirty. there are specks

of paint

and debris

embedded in the skin.

beneath the nails.

there are

cuts

and scrapes.

wounds,

some healed, some

new.

they are my hands.

the hands

i use

to cook, to clean,

to turn pages in books,

to write with.

hands that i place

in yours,

hands that i move slowly

across your skin,

or use to touch your

beautiful face.

forgive my

hands, they mean well.

truly, they do.