my palms can hold your hand at
night, i wonder how they reached so
many miles, combed some bay and
the west sea, with a floater. i am sure.
probably. you have ten fingers but
felt like twenty in a piano. you tickle
my toes and make my heart flutter
like a feather from a cheerful sparrow.
mornings. i hate mornings. but i love
you more. and the blessing to build
this nest with you.