Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Spring Fever's Touch

For when the heat of embers rise
secretive beneath birth's bed
or burn inward through met eyes
to hands withheld beyond cuff's end

Just as a collared dog may snarl, toothful and hackled,
emotion's pulses surge to hands upended
as same as bound by shackles
unsurfaced, unread, unheard, unopened.

To release passion's simple lock
requires no key nor combination
for hand's end unties the knot
by mere touch at hand's origination.


  1. nice...i like the continual loop back to the hands in this...and i like the wisdom too in that last little bit...

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