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 Welsh Poet and Writer, based in Ireland. Her poetry has recently appeared in The Stinging Fly, Southword and Crannog.Online magazines: Nutshells and Nuggets, And Other Poems, and Ink Sweat and Tears have also featured poems. Meanwhile, flash fiction and short stories have been published in FlashFlood, Metazen, Number Eleven and The Bohemyth.K. S. Moore has been shortlisted for Flash Mob 2013, Blog Awards Ireland and 99 Fiction. She has performed at Waterford Writers' Weekend, Waterford Winterval and Swansea's Dylan Thomas Festival.


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