“The hands went along with the body wherever it went. They wept when the body wept, trembled each time the body fell silent with pleasure. Salt and regret left their mark on them. Babies and wineglasses were entrusted to them, since the hands were precise, and enigmatic. Were they light beacons, real…”— Kathryn Hunt, narrativemagazine.comTagged: poem, Poetry, hands, Power Of Hands, My Favorites