24 hours past and I have forgotten.
Wanting aloneness.
To be safe in these body parts–
to feel blood and not need one thing more
than this mind, these fingertips–
to know my own eyes,
closed and open.

I pause–hold my tongue.

Knowing the touch of prophetic thumbs
and index fingers of your hand will erase,
take over and fill me more than i can fill myself.
That jaw bones, like magnum petals on inner arms,
will scratch my skin,
show muscle, bone, draw blood.

And I will have felt warmth
between eyes, ears, thighs.
You will know me as I lose, shed myself
between your legs and hibernate there until
it is easier to move away than feel–
stomach on stomach,
peel away,
let air breathe between
And open.

–Published in Touchstones, Fall 2000


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