About Love (2015)

Your hands
got me thinking
About Love, and
how electric
seeks a circuit:
rubber gloves, wellies
would earth it,
but bare fingers, thumbs –
too complicit.

A moist palm: enough
to spark it,
in darkness
we hear
the voltage cracking,
catch static
popping brightly
between our
interloping digits.

not to singe a hair, or
sting ourselves with each other’s

Alone, the current’s dormant;
a horrid weight droning
in my stomach.
That acidic, metallic taste
at the back of my throat


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