Come, take my hand

Let me cede my tongue to your mouth
So that we can speak the body's exquisite argot

You say: there is hurt here still, quiescence,

there're children between us, and dishes to wash

But I come to you even before that time:

When you knew only the warm sun and bare feet on the streets—
when you were whole
With my loose shoulders and skinny legs
I come smiling and smiling to take your hand