point of contact

it's the point of contact

that cracks the ice over

my spine.

the tickling caress of fingers

as they trace the scars of motion

pooled in my palms.

those veins wrapped around your

bones, they're striking out of the skin,

carving hills and valleys from your wrist.

i love the flex of muscles between

your bird-like bones. the freedom

i found in your hesitant touch.

it should be a sin to feel so

complete. maybe it is a sin.

i've never really paid attention.

no, you've stolen my attention.

encompassed it with every motion.

i've seen your hands dance over my skin.

you read my future in these palms,

traced the life lines deliberately -

like you knew you'd be at the path's end.