Begin at the end,
but do not end at the beginning.
Time fits like sand,
in my palm,
conforming to matter-of-fact
and not
my pressing will.
Slipping like the silver
of the light
cast, gently, softly
on my broken halo.
Through the explosion
of green-burst, gold mayhem
is excitement rekindled
afresh.
Not offered,
but taken gently,
my child-curled fingers,
reassuring you know
nothing serious
with a taunting smile.
Warmth
of you, of me, of touch.
Grasping, reaching, searching hands,
hot and cold blend.
Luscious joy of you,
delicious joy of me,
our joy of each other
separately.
Wanting you to have,
to hold, without space,
separating singularity.
Suddenly
absorbed, overwhelmed,
in motion,
closer, closer,
but stopped,
apart,
apparent,
stock-still,
shocked,
gazing almost emptily.
A hug,
a touch,
a kiss,
and torn.
Gone,
shattered,
away,
free in a most
unwanted,
unneeded,
unnecessary way.
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