At Her Touch

Look at the way she runs her hand
Across...

Well--anything

Kitchen counters
Office desks
Oak bannisters

Look at what happens
To anything made of matter
When she puts her hand on it

Look what happens
At her touch

Water ripples down
Instead of out

Sand pulls together
Instead of separating

Grown men dissolve
Actually dematerialize
Into all the parts of themselves
That they have ever been

Maybe it's the soft pink fingernails
Maybe it's the softness of her hands
Maybe it's the weight of it
Her touch
How slight
Like a feather's breath
Gracefully landing upon you
Then lifting up again
Into the air

It could be a lot of things
But I think it's mainly her

It's mainly the way
She convinces you
Just with her presence
That you are all she's focused on

You are all there is to her

And she makes you believe in this
And in her
And in yourself
And that you're stronger than you are
And still open

Open to whatever it is
She can give you

She leans in and whispers something
And your hand goes into her hand
And without saying it
You ask her to stay

To keep touching you
To stay within your atmosphere
To be your air
Your oxygen
Your safety net
Your inspiration

And she says 'yes'
And her hands settle

And you feel connected to something

Something that rests and occurs entirely

At her touch