Hands

No one would hold a hand like mine —
too hot too sticky too squishy.

Five pudgy little grubbers
attached to a wad of crinkly flesh.

A distracted seamstress must have stitched
my hand with scraps of skin she found.
My hand—a patchwork of mismatched fabric.

Yes, no one would hold a hand like mine!
My hand remains impaired, unpaired,
unless I clap or pray.

by Melissa Kim
11th grade, La Pietra – Hawaii School for Girls