POEM FOR AN EX
by John Grey
There were nights
when I saw hands
and only hands.
Tiny or large,
floating in the darkness,
flexing their fingers,
easing to the left or to the right,
as if angling for
the clearest, quickest route
to my bare throat.
There were no bodies.
Not even the shape of one.
Old wrinkled hands.
Strong sturdy hands.
Even the occasional child-like hands
that lunged then drew back
as if the act of strangling
a man in his bed
was beyond them.
But some hands persevered,
drew closer and closer,
prepared to wrap around my neck,
and choke the life out of me.
They were my hands.
You peeked through the keyhole,
watched the goings-on
John Grey is an Australian poet, U.S. resident,
recently published in New World Writing, California Quarterly, and Lost Pilots.
Latest books, Between Two Fires, Covert, and Memory Outside the Head, are
available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Isotrope Literary Journal, Seventh
Quarry, La Presa, and Doubly Mad.
Bernice Holtzman’s paintings and collages have appeared in shows at various venues
in Manhattan, including the Back Fence in Greenwich Village, the Producer’s
Club, the Black Door Gallery on W. 26th St., and one other place she
can’t remember, but it was in a basement, and she was well received.