poem in thanks




at first your hands like warm doves
relaxing in the thickets of my back
firming to insistent elbows 
strong on my knotted spine

then finding without trepidation 
the lowest reaches of my posture
muscles long abused and ignored
since my grandmother last there touched

and for my running legs long strokes
spinning my blood inside and out 
kneeding my feet as dirty as the road
and shaking them like a naughty child

on your rocking belly my head suspended
passed back and forth from hand to hand
you could take it and have it forever
for all the pleasure you have given

the armor of my chest yields its steel
to the soft darting of your fingers
clenched lungs under your heavy palm
rising with the sweet gasp of your release

when you dip into my belly
my breath slips deep into my soul
my ribs bare my spleen to your probe
far from violation you are invited in


but on my face you have designs
your thumb and forefinger have found 
my tired forehead, drooping brow,
cheekbones, thin hair rasp and ruff

your face looming above mine in the dark
you finally come to rest in my ears
your fingers trembling imperceptibly 
all else silent as a mist upon the moon