Unfolding My Hands

I itch my finger along the lines of wool 

that letter your sweater 

its burgundy threads bare

the scent of your skin

& in the evening, the odor is too potent

but the smell of aftershave 

evaporates into the clouds of smoke 

that once caught up to you

just as I catch the moon in my throat

like an itch

I am sad still

but the pain of losing you 

is silent now, like your eyes used to 

be when you scanned my face 

from across the phone

I am starting to feel the little bursts 

of love again as they 

dance in a jolt along the veins 

in my fingertips

quietly crawling along

the spiral of my ribcage

but it was you who held me,

one evening after the next

& now you return to the rotting hands

that blossom beneath a curtain of dust

those hands were once nestled in mine

holding out for a pocket of your warmth