Warm on My Hands
Josh Young
it felt warm on my
hands
dipping my fingers
into it
medium viscosity,
thicker
than water,
thinner than
oil, black, warmer
than
sunshine golden,
getting
on my clothes,
wiping on
my shirt, like
cleaning the
corners of a mouth
after
a meal
standing over the
source,
oozing like a
small spring,
slowly bubbling to
the
surface, i put
both hands in
rubbing them
together, then
on my face,
leaving handprints
some dried,
cracked, i smiled
making it crack
more, wide,
smiling from the
warmth i
felt, against the
cold night,
steam rose, before
disappearing
becoming one with
the night,
Spirits dancing in
the wind
it was so
beautiful, so
warm
Josh Young is a poet and writer from Richmond VA. He is fairly
new to writing poetry and has only had a few poems published in small
magazines. Many of his poems focus on existential dread, city living, and are
sometimes just humorous. In addition to writing poetry, Josh Young also does
open mics and slam poetry.
