I have worn your hands all day.
Other parts of my body
are yours too — the freckles
scattering up my arms, the red
the sun shows in my hair —
but it is your hands
that do this work I like today.They choose the firmest apples
from the bagful I gathered;
the fingers approve these hard
curves, peel and chop, trusting
the knife’s edge, arranging
creamy chunks of fruit
and coils of red skin.I bend my head over the pot,
letting the sweet steam swirl
into my eyes. The tears come,
and while I stand here crying
for you in my kitchen, your hands
go on stirring, go on
dignifying such simple acts.
— Kathy Mangan, Professor of Creative Writing and Literature, McDaniel College (As Published In Above the Tree Line, Carnegie Mellon University Press, 1995).
Download a PDF of the poem here.
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