Gentle Hands
Every day I come here it’s the exact same thing
Hands over me and I wish...
Hands under me and I wish...
In/out, out/in of me and I wish...
They were other hands
More gentle hands
Limbs of an untainted love
Trees
How do I say this?
Without sounding like a “B”
I don’t give a fuck about trees
Unless you can put it to your lips
and set its ass on fire
I recycle
The Long Drunk Fuck
He’s drunk; you’re not
Wanna scream hurry the fuck up
But you don’t say shit
Staring at the back of the couch
Negative eye roll in your head
Sloppy slip-outs
Breath!
The “ok, ok I’m almost finished” disclaimer
You sarcastically begin to back it up
oh ah oh ah daddy...
Just so he’ll hurry the hell up
Handprints
Your hands are all over me
Melting, splicing, molding into my forever
Swab test all wired and screwed up
Trying to imitate
The funky web assigned to you
Olexia Hart graduated from Howard University. She is currently working on her first poetry collection.