fingers
don't know how to observe;
although they want your skin,
they want more for you to feel.

your nose immobile,
except when the nostrils flare,
or something tickles,
and it twitches.
my wish -
i'll make you laugh,
arch in connuptions;
i'll parallel your every bend.

i cannot command
myself
smell,
separate your scent
from my sheets - though
it's been months and
memories laundered,
they still well,
silly wafting tears
saline taste
scent as
i'm rung.

orig published nov05