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IX
IX
First, your fingers arrive like a lost
Yet intrepid vanguard seeking to conquer
A familiar frontier of terra incognita.
The faint touch, bold as sunrise
Upon snow laden mountains
Or perhaps as shy as the crescent moon
Playing hide and seek through cloudy night.
Now those searching fingers slide across
The landscape of my palm which tenses
And pulses; the sensations of heavy earth,
Soft silt, and gray mist above the ocean
Accompany the advance of your hand.
But why do you pause?
What thoughts bind you?
Does this crease of skin seem such a precipice
Surging into the abyss?
Breath is held;
Decide.
What will you do?
And then…a leap!
My heart reaches out to catch you.
Your fingertips embrace mine with
The heat of magma, a delicious pain.
A root of lightning erupts from the earth
And paralyzes us for a second, a day,
An eternity,
A day, a second.
Don’t you feel as if you were stung
At once by a thousand bees,
Or like a shooting star crashing carelessly into the sun?
Isn’t it absurd that the world
Was hurled into splendid disarray
Just because you decided to reach out
And finally hold my hand
In your own beautiful, steady,
And slightly timorous hand?