Waiting (a poem)

laity-lodge-3-022

the want to feel your hand in mine;
find the pulse that beats in your thumb,
wet my lips on the bend of a finger, trace
the lines of your palm

up the length of your forearm. my
soul buckles at the drop of your gaze;
chest flutters like birds fallen from the nest.
you want a drink of water;

have only thirst in mind. place your hand
over mine, curl vine fingers through me,
around me until we are all twine and our
sighs become the wind.

we can drink this cup together.

Comments

  1. says

    From the very first lines,
    “the want to feel your hand in mine;
    find the pulse that beats in your thumb,” my heart beats fast and my eyes spill tears. Thank you for the gift of this beauty, Laura. Wow.

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