Beseitigung | a poem about grief

it’s always the hands

the hands that make me so sad

because they did everything they could

in a way

they are a symbol of you

of how much you fought

and failed

all I could sense looking at them

is that they never stopped

belonging to a child

these hands and fingers

put on your stomach

like a lifeless appendage

but they haven’t shed their language

yet

I feel like they

look as much at me

as I look at them

because we have always known of each other

in this world

it’s the hands

always

that get under my skin

as if they had never existed anywhere else