My hands are imagining you,
the cool pale, your shoulders,
like hawk wing, I sculpt, and

your neck is appearing, the
shape, tall, full, as an elegant
vase, you are here and your
chest is a comfort, the dark
sheltered heart, like a charm.

I listen, I reach, and
your whole self is turning,
I see your face.

K. S. Moore

Holding HandsThis poem is less about sculpting than it is about imagination and knowing someone’s body. It was inspired by my husband, who is also my partner of fifteen years, and I wrote it a few years into our relationship.  Recently, I took a fresh look at the words, edited and polished it into the piece above.

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K. S. Moore is a Writer and Poet. Her poetry has recently appeared in Crannog Magazine, Nutshells and Nuggets, And Other Poems, Ink Sweat and Tears and The Seventh Quarry.Flash Fiction and short stories have featured in FlashFlood, Metazen, Number Eleven and The Bohemyth. Shortlists have included: Flash Mob 2013, Blog Awards Ireland and 99 Fiction.K. S. Moore has read her poetry at Swansea's Dylan Thomas Festival and at Waterford Writers' Weekend. She is the founder and facilitator of Waterford's 'Write Club' and occasionally leads workshops on poetry and short fiction.


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