the longing hand

by pattikeno

the longing hand

reaches out

and closes around

my heart

the longing hand

searches me out

as I hide within

the crowd

pretending to be

normal

pretending to be

I can never

out run it

I can never

hide from it

the longing hand

will always

find me

the longing hand

will always be

closing around

my desperate

heart

I have resigned

myself to

accept my

fate

I’ve begun

to crave

it’s touch

the longing hand

so painful

the longing had

so harsh

so cruel

I crave the

restlessness

I crave the

sleepless nights

I long for the

longing hand

as it longs for

I long for

the longing hand

closing around

my heart

for it is only

in that moment

in that familiar

grasp

that I truly

feel alive

8/30/00

©Patti Keno

2000 Poetry the longing hand

1 Comment »

that which…

by pattikeno

that which…

that which is empty and

clean and dry

that which…

that which is aching

inside of me

that which

I tried to see that which

lies within

but it’s too expensive to

see

that which…

that which is hidden

inside of me

remains hidden

forever

that which…

that which I hold so

dear is lost

that which…

that which forever

tears me apart inside

remains hidden

that which

10-25-95

©Patti Keno

1995 Poetry the longing hand

and

by pattikeno

eyes are burning

from the endless

nights

laying awake

–

and waiting

–

I am filled

with desire

for something

unknown

–

and unwanted

–

I ache

alone

filled with

remorse

–

and regret

–

I long and

I long

with this

intense desire

–

and wanton lust

–

I long for

something

anything

that can put out

–

this

fire

–

but I never

know what

it is I ache

for

–

3/6/00

pik

©Patti Keno

2000 Poetry the longing hand

1 Comment »

This desperate desire
for something more
than what is
for something more then what was
taking your hand
and grasping that chunk of hair
that you cut
thinking of all the days it knew
you rub your head
so short now
your head so light
should be easier to think
but then the headache sets in
and you lose your concentration
you lose the silence you
tried to commit to memory
and the voices close in
and the memories rise
to swallow you
in a volcano of emotion
leaving behind nothing
but ash
nothing but a hollow hole
where you once stood
Vesuvius all over again
volcanic eruptions swallow you
in their hot molten lava flow
and you are burnt
nothing but ashes
nothing but ashes and hair