Categories
Issue 3 Poetry

hands

For “hands,” I completely reworked the stanzas leading up to the last stanza. I made the purpose of the “September’s moonlight” stanza clearer, capturing the narrator’s initial uncertainty about the connection, which I then made sure to juxtapose with the rest of the poem. I also made the “enchanted” reference clearer by explicitly stating it as a song reference and adding a reason for that song reference as well. Lastly, I made the cold vs. warmth theme throughout the poem much more noticeable at the beginning to keep the poem consistent throughout.

black cotton gloves don’t stand a chance
against chicago’s lakefront.

my hands deep blue from the cold.
piercing through the fight of my gloves
was frostbite taking its hold.
now they scintillate like the fireplace
that’s thawed my heart into a race,
sat beside it as you painted them gold.

glimmering no matter how far i go,
deep in my pockets, was once their only
home…
until they knocked upon yours.

brisk as an ocean wind
and as smooth as emerald,
from deep in the night
till they meet the daylight
winding its way through the blinds,
they’ll find their way, and stay, on mine.

isn’t it so enchanting,
that a union so simplistic
-the length of your span-
can be so ignescent?

and isn’t it baffling to think
we nearly extinguished it?

stumbling onto you
underneath september’s moonlight,
i should’ve known
i was destined to fall for the might
of your riptides.
thank god the last of october’s winds
raked the foliage in our minds,
surfacing what neither you nor i
could deny:
in our cocoons built of cautious lies
love was fluttering, beckoning us to take
flight…

now we butterfly.

figure skating each other’s skin,
pacing out each second till our olympians wrap like the bracelet
that sings on my wrist:
‘enchanted’.
one of the songs off
albums upon albums that rewind me to our last moment;
wave the cold away from within.

it’s no wonder i’m hooked on the ripples
ricocheting off your fingertips,
and the waves your palms send billowing.
as i’ve found i’m most content
underwater, with summer’s refractions
rippling along the lake’s currents.
now that it’s winter, only one thing is
resemblant…

you see, these black cotton gloves stand no
chance
when compared to your shores. and, in case it isn’t obvious,
i like my hands more when they’re within
yours.

Evan Mueller is a rising sophomore at DePaul University studying economics and political science. He’s used writing to encapsulate, enliven, and preserve feelings and moments of his life since the 7th grade. Mainly focused on poetry, he’s recently had his pieces published in Messy Misfits Club and Dreamers By Night, more of his work can be found at @toeternallydaydream on Instagram.