Hands clasped together, fingers intertwined
The way they rest on a wooden desk on the first day of school
The way we held each other one sleepless, wordless summer night
The way our souls exist.
Fisted hand engulfed by another hand
The way paper beats rock during a tie-breaker at the end of recess
The way your life and your problems consumed me for many, many months
The way we will not be again.
Two upright hands, palm to palm
The way you’re taught to pray when you’re four years old
The way two friends—friends who are only friends (and nothing more)—coexist
The way we cannot be.
Two hands, connected by hugging thumbs
The way they’re placed right before an arm wrestle match
The way two people—ones who are partners, lovers, and friends—live
What we never were.
ROOT OF ROOTS 