Fingers maneuver gently,
tickling lobes, adjusting pony-tail,
or picking nose as appropriate. Each touch
precedes the surface
it encounters: I create
with caresses, construct particles
contrary to physics in milliseconds
of contact with you.
Alas, I touch but so much.
For hours I've mapped the topography,
surveyed terrain, tracked the curve of every space
with kisses, yet
some part remains unfathomed
beneath body I hold, this whole I
grasp so tightly. I want for the structure of
the thing, to know its
core, iron support,limestone
foundation; bone, skull, scaffolding.
I search and shuffle through blueprints and atlas
to find the missing set.
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