the Hands of my Lover

i smother the creases on my hands against your own

they are raindrops to you oceanic length.

i am still water to your moving and rumbling and undying underhanded motions

you quiver like God.

i must have been anointed when the touching of you skin met the touching of mine

i must have been liquid within your grip as you tried you warmed my blue fingertips.

there are so many trips

unquantifiable trips into the mind of your phalanges and carpals

i even see you cuts,

travelling into you and out of you and into you again as dolphins need to breath.