you and I, we are not angels

You and I, we are not angels
Neither are we meant to be
Why question my unraveling desire
Or the surprising touch that dismantles
Your need; this affection I tend to it is essential
Even as I move through this room clumsily
Stumbling against walls scraping my knees
Know this: I am no giggling schoolgirl
With a crush or humble Lesbos maiden
Singing her heart into pieces at your feet
My claim holds no promise of heaven
Or that my sex is sweet; my woman hands are hot
Smile with me in the face of this convention
Move with me in the rhythm of this kiss


Monica A Hand is a poet and book artist who is exploring a nomadic lifestyle.  Her debut manuscript, “me and Nina” received a 2010 Kinereth Gensler Award from Alice James Books and is now available. Her poems have appeared in numerous publications including Naugatuck River Review, The Sow’s Ear, Drunken Boat, and Gathering Ground: A Reader Celebrating Cave Canem’s First Decade.  She holds a MFA in Poetry and Poetry in Translation from Drew University.