Touch Deferred

Until you touch me

I am not me to you.

If you never

slide your fingers

along my thigh,

I will never move it

to allow you in.

Unless you brush

my nipple

with the knuckle

of your right hand,

you can never know

whether it will seize

the moment of contact.

The gaze that stills

your reach and touch,

defers the real,

and keeps you

safe from me.

You are right

to hesitate:

my flesh

eats everything

it touches.

(Upon reading the second chapter of

Resisting Nudities

by Florence Dee Boodakian.

2008, Peter Lang Publishing, New York)