give me a way

nana touches the back of my father

the hem of my garment

looks out of the frame

blood red nails

the hem of my garment

white lace stitched by love

at home red fingertips

as well

white lace stitched by love

like this is a wedding

as well

something someone gives me away

like this is a wedding

but my father is holding

something someone give me a way

to hold onto him now

but my father is held

now out of the frame

and yet I hold him here

touch back

(I dedicate this to all of us with the impulse to hold and be held by people who we cannot hold or be held by right now, for reasons of social distance or spiritual plane. I dedicate this to my father who I just wish I could hug, it’s a daily wish and a daily heartbreak. I dedicate this to my Nana who is living, but far away and also who it would not be epidemiologically wise for me to hug at this time. Even this christening gown made by my other grandmother the great designer exists somewhere where we can’t touch it. Towards our transformed relationship to touch. And not taking touch for granted ever. Again.)