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Posts Tagged ‘touch’

Without Making a Sound

 

 

 

The cat does not care that I’m meditating.

She cares that I am warm and seated and still.

I pretend that I am ignoring her and notice

when I pretend not to notice I am pretending.

She settles in my lap. I notice how

this act seems to involve the whole world.

All day, I consider how powerful an act

to touch someone. how even the sky leans in.

 

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A piano is just

some wood and strings

until it’s touched—

and then it sings.

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What She Wanted to Say

Let’s not talk of things we’ve done,
let’s correspond with touch.
Your skin the land, my hands the sun,
love, let’s not talk of things we’ve done—
we’ll let our chatty fingers run
in tangled narratives… oh hush
mmm, let’s not talk of things we’ve done,
let’s correspond with touch.

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on our fingers,
six layers of skin
because
our hands
are made to touch

*

my daughter
picks a small stone
from the parking lot
and puts it
in her mouth

*

how do we know
what is real?
the stone
in the mouth
smooth and gritty and cold

*

the days
are so short.
they turn
into years
that are so, so short

*

and have we touched
enough?
the fingers
still have much
skin left

*

I am being
eroded
but you can’t see …
it’s all inside
the canyons deepening

*

I used to rush
to fill in
emptiness—
small stones
sinking into a pond

*

already
I have said
too much.

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