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Fantasy of Hands


by Samuel Derrick Rosen


Everything seeps, it is fantasy hour
 
as heights hesitate beneath
body and weight and what must progress
and adorn as air
sucks earth from ground, flesh/bone
(as palm and palm remain
unexplained, untouched, not beheld)
filter down and climb the surface,
skin ascertained
in inlets of love, clutched by compassion,
and then, it commences,
 
circular waters surge
over vital essences,
into sensation, base water
stalks, one entire mind turning
into two hands, eager to usher
in sunlight to the silence
that a flame exudes, when seized,
in the radiance of eyes, until
the moment they tire.




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