Nose and Toes
April 15, 2015
My arms cannot embrace you
Though I sense your hand on mine.
The frequent probing of my mind
Is startling in its absence.
My mind’s anticipating yours,
The habituation of my experience
Of you reading me,
Of me reading you,
Casts your image into my contemplation;
And your ghost appears
In my nose,
The smell of your hair, your sweat, intoxicates me;
In my ears,
The tender way you call me drifts through our flat;
To my toes
That think they find yours in the midst of the night;
In my gut,
As I remember our devotion to the divine that is us.
As I fear the lack of corporeal you,
Yet with pride in your work—the reason you are gone,
The fear is allayed by
Thee in my
Nose and toes.