Sometimes you take my hand

Uncategorized

There are times

when you reach your small hand into mine;

make a gentle rasp against the palm

to click as you unlock me.

 

The mechanism must be ancient –

imagine the inventor of hands and sons and love

agape at his own prowess

a bubble of saliva against his lip.

 

Finger, the fit of you, and how

this pressure is enough to pull

every nerve as tight as tears

caress in confirming

 

what you know and cannot know:

that you have me and yet you don’t;

the oiled bolt, the reach and hinge

falls open to you, lets you inside.

 

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