Thumbs
Shawna McGaha
It is in frozen moments, long
hours passed in minutes in those
forgotten spaces after the
eleventh hour, that I loose
myself in the lacings of our
fingers.
When the braiding of ten
blurs into five I can no longer see
where I end and you begin, just
two idle thumbs
dancing around each other.
It is in silent moments
when the car radio is lost
in our quiet concentration of the other
that I drift into a parallel universe
of these frozen moments where fingers touch,
once.
|
