Holding Hands

You wouldn’t hold my hand
I sensed – Not saw – Your
Creased Forehead
Deduced from the set of your Jaw
Saw
The nape of your
Neck and the bravery of your shoulders
That refused to cry

I was wrong

So unforgivable
That my memory
Has saved me from the details

We walked beside each other
And realized that the pace was wrong
I had a limp
Caused by the lost counterweight
Of your hand in mine

I crooked a finger in your belt loop
Swung in time with your angry hips

Unconvincingly you tried
To brush me away
Instead our palms nested in each other
Followed through
Lock-step
In-stride

Our bodies didn’t hide
But forced a grudging confession
Or our mutual need

And therefore
Perhaps
Our love