I can almost remember when
to bend meant nothing, its arc
jubilant, when a kiss was easy,
limbs in fluid motion, tended
to precise geometries, noses,
mouths put right immediately.
Fitting the bow of another's body
takes no thought, born aware, we
sense how to maneuver skin to skin.
The warm shower encourages
recollection, we are never closer
to birth than when we are wet,
some part engaged in gentle dance,
enough to create the longing ache,
then fill it, the earth's curve a bed.
(c)Shann Palmer 2008
published in Skipping Stones, Vol VI
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