Your Hands Spoke More Than Prayer

Eunoia Review

leaning with a lighted candle
you drew my eyes
bare

you stroked my face
into the mirror

trained me to whistle
freedom fled with
the burning afternoon

your shadow grew roots
along crimson mountainsides

silent steps split the wind
to a bed of wildflowers
where you lay, cold & still

the town below has shifted
into rusted boxcars
traveling north

I tell the silhouette
sketched in soil

I swig your medicine
to the drugstores
planked shut

dream violet for last
year’s people reeling
backward
away

Justin Robinson is an MFA candidate at San Francisco State University. His recent poem can be found in the upcoming issue of Rufous City Review.

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