Thumbs

Two ley-lines,
two contours,
both facing each other.
Two undulations,
two callouses -
one for each thumb.
A scratch aged eleven
and a habit for biting,
turned a simple score
into a life of its own.
A habit for even numbers,
multiples of two,
symmetry,
made me carve another
to match left to right.
Self-awareness hit:
an adolescent train wreck,
jumper sleeves
were pulled over my thumbs in shame.
I thanked the universe
that we had grown out of
‘heads down, thumbs up’
for surely
I would be exposed in that game.
An eternity of teenage years
spent hiding my thumbs away
where a handshake
brought on a fit of anxiety.
I changed the way
I held a pen;
the way I held
a knife and fork.
Winter was a blessing;
mittens!
gloves!
Time went on,
twenties came,
and I settled into my skin.
I met you,
and my thumbs became bashful again –
but you looked at them
curiously
and said you liked them.
You liked that they were different;
you could tell that they were mine.