On the Table

I look at your hand,

Lying , resting, quiet on the table,

Resting, lying quiet on the wood,

And I want to crawl

Between your fingers.

I want to climb

Into that spot that marries up to

Mine, when we hold hands,                                    

Loosely when we stroll,

So they move like reeds on the beach

Responding to a wind or turn of the path.

Or, snug with that wrap around clasp I like,

Where I anchor my small around your

Strong index,

Wrist to wrist to feel your heart beat.

Or, warm and passive in the

Movie light flicker, fragrant from popcorn

And love making.

I look at your hand,

And lay mine there, resting, quiet

On the table,

Resting, lying quiet

On the wood.

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