knuckles

Knuckles; mine are wrinkled—or were they always
Shoved in mud; thrown in face
Craggily little stones used to articulate angles
Dull points; a slap without a clench
A fist, raised above head
From below, surfaces
Swallowing water
Open hand, finger tip, stabs to splash; stabs to shatter
Knives in shades of blue
Violent surpass
Dread
Dread not
Knots and knuckles, tied together under flesh
I do not bleed for you: I swim to you
I always swim to you
I always thrust and pull, thrust and pull, fingers, hands, arms, body, legs, moving through it all
I always knew that mine were wrinkled.