Poem
Elaine Feinstein
Hands
Hands
Hands
We first recognised each other as if we were siblings,and when we held hands your touch
made me stupidly happy.
Hold my hand, you said in the hospital.
You had big hands, strong hands, gentle
as those of a Mediterranean father
caressing the head of a child.
Hold my hand, you said. I feel
I won’t die while you are here.
You took my hand on our first aeroplane
and in opera houses, or watching
a video you wanted me to share.
Hold my hand, you said. I’ll fall asleep
and won’t even know you’re not there.
© 2007, Elaine Feinstein
From: Talking to the Dead
Publisher: Carcanet, Manchester
From: Talking to the Dead
Publisher: Carcanet, Manchester
Elaine Feinstein
(United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, 1930)
Elaine Feinstein is a poet, novelist, biographer, playwright and critic. Born in Liverpool, raised in Leicester, she now lives in London. She was educated at Newnham College, Cambridge. Leicester University has since given her an honorary doctorate in support of her contribution to poetry and literature. Feinstein is the author of fourteen novels and innumerable books of poetry. Her novels and ...
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Hands
We first recognised each other as if we were siblings,and when we held hands your touch
made me stupidly happy.
Hold my hand, you said in the hospital.
You had big hands, strong hands, gentle
as those of a Mediterranean father
caressing the head of a child.
Hold my hand, you said. I feel
I won’t die while you are here.
You took my hand on our first aeroplane
and in opera houses, or watching
a video you wanted me to share.
Hold my hand, you said. I’ll fall asleep
and won’t even know you’re not there.
From: Talking to the Dead
Hands
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