from your fingers to mine

from your fingers to mine

by third year Jordyn Faucette

how am i to write of pain when your hand is in my hair 

how am i to write about anxiety when your fingers trace mine 

how am i to think with your hand on my thigh 

all of you is so filling 

so satisfying 

so absolute

so spiritual

i once could never even dare to fathom a time when my poetry wouldn’t hurt, wouldn’t scream and thrash and beg. I once could never imagine that poetry of mine could touch my fingers so softly. 

but

all of you is so slippery 

so completing

so sublime

so right. 

that as i have slipped into my place beside you,

the ache will not come 

the words will not pull 

and 

suddenly 

 its love poems that build

and swell and mm 

suddenly 

i am content